


The Bodyguard

by tm_writes



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard!Stannis, Can I make Tywin the bad guy?, Career!Sansa, Corruption, Dominance kink, Don’t like, F/M, Hot Sex, Journalism, Modern Era, Smut, Submissive Kink, don’t read, not Dany friendly, not cersei friendly, romantic suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tm_writes/pseuds/tm_writes
Summary: Sansa is an investigative reporter who stumbles onto something much larger than corrupt politics in the North.When her life is threatened, it will be up to her bodyguard Stannis Baratheon to keep her safe and help her uncover the entire sordid truth!A modern AU romantic suspense story with our favourite GOT characters!
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon & Sansa Stark, Stannis Baratheon/Sansa Stark
Comments: 579
Kudos: 298





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my 2nd attempt to write modern AU Stansa! I hope I do them justice!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had quite a few people ask for me to write another Stansa- took me a while to come up with a plot I liked.
> 
> FULL disclaimer, for this story, and the Stannis I've created, I've used Mark Strong as my inspiration. If this isn't to your liking, I completely understand!
> 
> Also, I'm going to something a bit edgier here, with both my characters, and again, I hope it works!
> 
> As always, let me know in the comments how I did!
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe!
> 
> T

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa sighed as she opened the front door to her little house in King's Landing. Thank god she knew the place by heart because it was late, she was exhausted, and she realized that she'd failed to replace the light in the hallway. Groping her in the dark, she eventually made it to the kitchen, where she flicked on a light, grateful for the warm glow that bathed the tiny room.

Her entire house was small, a craftsmen heritage home she'd bought upon her graduation four years prior with her journalism degree. The inheritance from her mother's parents had allowed her to stop paying rent and put down roots. Prices for homeownership in King’s Landing were ridiculous, so this little place, which would have been perfectly affordable in the North, cost more than she cared to contemplate down here. At twenty-six, she was proud of her home! 

Not that she was ever home long enough even to keep a plant alive, let alone the tiny postage stamp of a yard she had, but it was the thought that counted. Right?

She dropped her bag, with her laptop, camera and notebook on one of three chairs at her kitchen table. The place was too small to hold any more but that hardly mattered because it was mostly her in her house and no one else. She didn’t need a lot of space for visitors that never showed up.

Her stomach rumbled, loudly, so she opened her fridge, already knowing that most of her groceries were well past their expiration date, and the few that were there were questionable at best.

Such was the life of a working woman, one whom some might say was obsessed with her career.

Sansa didn’t think it was obsessed. She preferred the words _career driven._

Sansa sniffed at questionable Chinese food, shrugged when it didn't smell too bad, and shovelled it into her mouth as she flicked through her phone.

Three missed messages from her mother, which meant something was up. Sansa glanced at the calendar she had hanging on her wall in the kitchen. It featured dogs that were in trouble for bad deeds, and this month's naughty pooch was a wiener dog who ate all the hotdogs.

Oh, the irony! Sansa thought smirking to herself.

Living by herself, with few friends and a career that often saw her put in eighty-hour workweeks, she'd become very adept at entertaining herself.

"Shit," she cursed as her eyes landed on the upcoming date. Circled in bold red was the reminder for the fundraiser in the North this weekend. She tried to think if she'd bought a ticket home and frowned.

It wasn't that she was scatterbrained. If anything, Sansa had an almost eidetic memory and was highly intelligent. It was just that when she was deep into a story, things like her family, whom she loved, didn't really matter.

It was why she was woefully single and didn't care that much about her pathetic dating life. And why she was continually driving her mother around the bend.

Her father, Eddard Stark, was the governor for the North. His best friend, Robert, the senator from the Stormlands. Chatter around the capital had been that Robert was pushing to make a run for president, and with it being an election year, campaigning had started.

That's what the event this weekend was about. The start of her Dad’s campaign with his biggest political supporter, Robert there. It was bound to benefit both men. It was a huge deal to her parents and not an event she could miss even though she had no real desire to go and rub noses with the who’s who of the North.

"Crap," Sansa said out loud, no longer hungry.

The best part about living eight hundred miles away from Catelyn Stark was that Sansa could swear all she wanted. And wear comfortable clothes.

Her typical outfit consisted of jeans, a t-shirt, her beloved Blundstone boots and some type of cargo jacket. She always had a pen, gum, and her phone on her, and she more often than not purchased a bag or a purse depending if she could fit her laptop and iPad inside. Fashion rarely rated on her radar, much to her mother's dismay.

Now though, she'd have to play the game and at least make an appearance at her father's kickoff event to launch his campaign. She had promised her mother.

It wasn't that Sansa didn't like her family or the North. It was that she was so close to blowing open an academic cheating ring that had been happening at King's Landing University, and her primary contact was supposed to meet her Friday night, with proof.

Again, when it came to family obligation versus career, these days, Sansa was all about her career.

Sighing, Sansa dialled Arya.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Arya said, snickering.

Sansa adored her younger sister. She was a year younger than Sansa, at twenty-five, and was hardly the proper lady that Cat had wanted for her daughters, having completed an environmental engineering degree a few years ago. Arya's boyfriend was an enigmatic older man named Jaqen, whom Cat loathed, and Arya made sure to flaunt their relationship any chance she got. Jaq was eight years older than her sister, but they were totally in love. 

Now Arya was working for a firm in the North, helping manage construction projects and often wore work boots instead of high heels to the job site.

Their oldest brother Robb, twenty-eight, had married his high school sweetheart, Dacey Mormont, twenty-six a year ago and had taken over Stark Logging in the North. Her parents were pleased with him, although Dacey wasn’t the woman Cat would have chosen for him. Still, Robb was happy and Dacey was an awesome sister in law and Sansa loved seeing them.

She had two younger brothers as well. Bran was working on his master's degree in computer science. He was twenty-two. And Sansa's youngest brother, Rickon, twenty-one, was living his best life in his first year of community college, taking resort management. It basically meant he hung out at the ski hills on the weekend, picking up women and boarding to his heart's content.

"Yeah, I did."

"Big story?"

Arya and Sansa had not been close when they'd been growing up. There were thirteen months between them, and while Arya had embraced her tomboy side and drove their mother mad, Sansa had tried hard to be the perfect daughter for Cat. It was only when Ned had put his foot down when Sansa had been twelve and wanted to go to writing camp instead of ballet lessons, that Cat had finally realized she would not be able to mould her daughters into the debutants she'd dreamed of. And while their outright fighting had stopped, they hadn’t suddenly mended fences as kids.

While both Arya and Sansa loved their mother, she was generally a giant pain in their butts and the consummate political wife. Her father, a senator from the Riverlands, had groomed her for such a role, but neither Arya nor Sansa had wanted anything to do with that.

Funnily enough, it was when Arya had transferred to the same university that Sansa was at, that they'd become friends. Now Sansa could honestly say that besides her best friend Pod, Arya was her closest friend. They spoke almost daily and Arya always had her back. Always. She ran a hell of a lot of interference for Sansa when it came to their mother.

"Yeah. Cheating in the university."

Arya snarled. "Fuck, are you serious?"

"Yup. A prof. He's been taking kickbacks from rich students to slip them tests ahead of time."

"Scumbag."

Sansa hummed her agreement. It was a scumbag move and she couldn’t wait to nail his ass with her expose. This is why she loved her career; the high she got from exposing dirtbags to the light of day. Sometimes she almost felt like a superhero in those movies Arya was obsessed with.

"Do I have a flight?"

"The better question is, do you have a dress? Mom'll kill you if you show up in anything that's not from this year and designer."

While Sansa wasn't the clothes horse that Catelyn Tully Stark was, she did know her Prada from her Gucci. She was a Tully-Stark after all.

The problem, as Sansa could figure it, was that she'd had no time to pick up a new dress. She scanned her calendar for tomorrow. Perhaps she could fit it in after the staff meeting at 10 am, but it'd be close.

"Can you resend my flight details," Sansa asked, and Arya grunted.

"Done. You bringing a date?"

Sansa laughed, choking on a piece of sweet and sour pork. "Gods, you're hilarious."

"What about Pod?"

"We're friends, Arya."

Sansa could almost hear her sister shrug through the phone.

Sansa's dating history was dismal and they both knew it. Pod was a year older than Sansa and her bestie down in King’s Landing. 

Part of it had to do with the fact that Cat hadn't allowed either girl to date much in high school. And Sansa hadn’t exactly done alot of it in college. The other reason was that Sansa had never understood 'casual dating.' In theory, she got it, but she'd never been one for casual hookups, and when she did date, she honestly got bored. No one seemed to be as intense as her and those that were like her - well, she worked with them, and that just would never work.

"Sure. Well, you know mom will have the parade of eligible bachelors just waiting for you. Get a dress, San. Make this easy on yourself."

Sansa groaned.

"Love you, sissy!" Arya sing-songed and then hung up.

Sansa sighed as she shut her phone down, thinking about her career that she loved.

The newspaper she worked for was mostly online, as was the wave of the future. They were tied into two of the local radio stations in King's Landing, one rock and one country, and the four of them where she worked produced a weekly paper, along with the daily stories the station ran and their online webpage. That was how people got their news nowadays and it was a 24/7 job. 

Her boss was a man named Oberyn Martell. Sansa would have to be dead and buried six feet deep, not to say that the man was a walking advertisement for sex. He was closing in on fifty and looked good. But he had a long-time lover/wife named Ellaria Sand. The woman was gorgeous, and at forty, looked years younger. Sansa had heard more than one kinky story about their sex life to even want to go there with the man. Being in that type of relationship was NOT for her. 

Sansa had a kink, but she was sure it was nothing compared to her boss's sex life. Besides, Oberyn was the best boss and no amount of sex would be worth messing that up. The guy trusted her and gave her a lot of slack to chase down her stories. She produced some gems for him, and she honestly had learned so much from her time working for him and she’d never ruin that with sex.

One of her other two colleagues was a gruff man with a horrible facial scar named Sandor Clegane, in his mid thirties. Sandor did mostly sports and weather stuff. At first, Sansa had been wary of him, but his grumpy attitude was mainly a front for a decent guy. Mostly. He might have been a dating prospect if he wasn't so miserable. Sansa had no time to fix someone else. When she did find a man, she wanted him to be put together and know what he wanted in life. And what he wanted to do to her. Her life was too hectic and too fulfilling to have to put a lot of time and effort into a project. Arya said that made her kind of cold. Sansa thought it made her smart. And Sandor was a project, capital P. No thanks.

Sansa had a bundle of romance books on her Kindle Unlimited that were filled with alpha males, steamy sex and kick-ass women. She also had more than one vibrator that got the job done, thank you very much, she thought, kicking off her boots and wandering down the hallway to her bedroom.

She'd settled twice for mediocre sex and a crappy, less than fulfilling relationship, and she wasn't willing to do so again. The next time, the sex had to be smoking, the guy had to be dominant, and she wanted to be treated like a queen. It was a tall order, she knew. Oh, and she'd like him to be hot. Masculine. Muscles perhaps, but nothing too overbearing. She sighed, working her long red hair loose from the ponytail she’d been sporting all day.

Her other colleague was a guy a year older than her, named Pod. She and Pod were besties. There might have been one awkward moment when they'd first met when Pod had a teeny, tiny crush on her, but that was long gone. He was dating a really beautiful woman named Ros, who was his same age, and Sansa adored them together, even if she had no idea how they worked. Something about Pod and his ‘skills’ that Sansa did not want to know more about. Apparently, according to Ros, Pod’s mouth was magic.

Sansa’s two previous lovers had NOT been gifted in the oral arts. In fact, one flat out refused and the other clearly had no idea what he’d been doing, almost choking and gagging his way through.

Now as she undressed, washed her face and brushed her teeth, Sansa was grateful to crawl into the queen-sized bed that had just enough space for her, wondering if there were really men out there like the ones she read about.

Were there nights that it'd be nice to come home to someone? Sure.

But that also meant, that if she were in a dedicated relationship there would be nights that she'd feel guilty. As it was now when she walked in at almost 11 pm she had no one to answer to. No angry messages, accusing glares, or worse, silent treatments just for doing her freaking job.

And when she got lonely? Well, there was always Pod and Sandor for a pub night, wings and beer. She had Arya. She had people. And when she was really lonely, she had hot, sexy, fantasy guys, and more than enough battery powered skills to get her off.

No, she didn’t have a pet, and no significant other, but she has a passion for digging up the truth, and that sustained her a lot of the time. Most of the time.

Thinking about the last time her mother had tried to set her up, a creep named Ramsay, Sansa shuddered. Hell to the no about that ever happening again. His eyes had freaked her out in the worst possible way.

She wished there was some dating service that she could just hire some guy to be her appropriate date for this weekend and then he would disappear. But if word ever got out, it would be a scandal and she loved her parents too much to hire some male escort just to avoid her mother’s matchmaking attempts.

No, the best thing she could do was buy a damn dress, fly North, smile and make small talk and then book it out of there before her mother got any more plans in her head for her.

Sansa had worked hard to have the exact life she wanted, and no one, not even Catelyn Stark, was going to take that away from her.

* * *

_ Stannis _

Stannis had thought when he'd vetted all of the security people for his brother Robert's newest protection detail, that he wouldn't have to deal with the overbearing man for a few weeks.

Unfortunately, that had not been the case.

It seemed that Robert was throwing his weight behind his best friend in the North, Eddard Stark and his re-election campaign, and Robert had deemed it necessary to have his entire family with him in Winterfell this weekend when it all kicked off.

Stannis rubbed his tired eyes as he stared at the impressive monitor in front of him. He was home, for now, in his penthouse apartment in King's Landing, trying to figure out how to run his successful and very lucrative private security firm, while Robert treated him like he was at his beck and call.

"Stanny, I need you. And Renly. It shows stability and that I'm a family man."

From what Stannis knew, Robert hadn't been a family man for years. He'd let it slip that he and Cersei, his wife, had stopped sleeping together years ago when their youngest son Tommen had turned eight. Since Tom was now nineteen, that was over a decade that they hadn't shared a bed. Of course, that hadn't meant a divorce for Robert. He'd been in politics his entire life, his marriage to Cersei as close to an arranged one as possible in this day and age. Robert had just had his fifty-first birthday, while Cersei was forty-eight, a few years older than Stannis’s forty-six years. 

Men like Robert didn't divorce their wives, unlike men like Stannis. They just fucked women discreetly on the side and sent them on their way when they were tired of them. Sometimes Stannis envied Robert and his casual disregard for anyone’s desires but his own. Robert had been groomed for politics almost from birth, taking over their family business (although he was more figurehead than anything), and then running his first campaign nearly twenty years ago, something local that he’d won handily. From there, Robert had never looked back.

Stannis had gone a different route from his eldest brother, getting his dual degrees in economics and computer science, before deciding he needed more. He'd enlisted in the military and had quickly worked his way into special forces, where he'd become a highly trained intelligence officer. His skill set was unique, and his cold logic and absolute refusal to bow under pressure assured that he'd had a long and successful career with them.

When he'd finally left the military, his daughter Shireen had been fourteen, his wife Selyse had been a bitter and disillusioned woman and his personal life had crumbled. His marriage, never good to start with, hadn’t lasted a month. They’d married young, at twenty-four, and because Selyse had been pregnant. There had been no great emotion between them and Stannis often wondered if he was even capable of such displays.

That was eight years ago. Thankfully, the divorce with Selyse had been almost painless, and moving into private business had allowed Stannis to dedicate time to rebuilding his relationship with Shireen. Shireen was twenty-two and they remained extraordinarily close. As for his ex wife, the last he'd heard Selyse was living on some island, part of some hooey religious group he'd never had time for. He thanked the gods she was out of his life.

Now Stannis, who had just booked more work for his company, was supposed to fit in a fundraiser.

In the North.

Last minute.

Oh, and it was a black-tie affair. Of course.

Not that Stannis didn't own a tux, or three. He was a Baratheon after all. There were one of the oldest and most established families in Westeros, and he'd grown up with wealth the way others grew up riding bikes in the neighbourhood.

The issue was that Stannis had been booked to do a private job for the newest pop sensation Dany Drogo in Essos, and there was no way he could be in both Essos and Winterfell.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing he'd go to Robert's thing. It would, in the end, be less painful than trying to get out of it. He'd send Gendry to Essos to look after Dany since Renly and his husband Loras would be with Stannis up North. Renly had just turned thirty-five, his husband the same age as him. 

The North. Where it was cold and dark and backward.

Stannis genuinely liked Ned Stark. For a politician, Stannis found him refreshingly honest and straightforward. Ned was a family man, who was still in love with his wife, by all accounts, and had raised five children that weren't the entitled and whiny human beings that Joffrey was.

Stannis couldn't stand his nephew and wondered briefly if he'd be there. Most likely. Who on god's green earth still lived with their parents at twenty-six?

Joffrey Baratheon did.

Taking a healthy swig of scotch, Stannis composed the emails to his team that would allow him to meet Robert's demands and wondered if he'd ever find the spine to stand up to his overbearing older brother.

Stannis had stared down terrorists, helped take out arms dealers and had more than one 'kill' under his belt.

But Robert? Gods, the man worked him up in a way that Stannis rarely allowed to happen with anyone else.

Stannis was a trained killer and a man that inspired either fear or confidence, depending on the reason a person had met him. That seemed to have a way of disappearing around Robert, and it was a constant source of frustration for Stannis himself, to have this one area of his life he felt he could not control.

Control was extremely important to Stannis Baratheon and something he hated giving up, to anyone.

Satisfied he'd done all he could, Stannis finally pushed back from his desk. He walked through his elegant penthouse, drawn to the living room where his beloved grand piano sat, alone and in front of windows that went from floor to ceiling and afforded a stunning view of King's Landing.

He slid onto the seat, placing his glass down in the coaster his housekeeper kept there and allowed his long, elegant fingers to dance over the keys. He lost himself in music, tonight a haunting melody from Tchaikovsky, his mind empty. His mother had loved to play piano, and before their unfortunate death, Stannis had spent hours by her side, learning how to play.

It, along with his cabin in the Stormlands and his boat, _Cassana,_ docked in the King's Landing harbour, were his greatest love. After Shireen. His daughter was everything to him.

Stannis had just finished the last haunting note when his phone chimed.

 **Robert** : Are you bringing a plus one?

Stannis sighed, the tension that had melted away when he'd been at the piano, flaring back to life. He'd been with woman, mostly those in their mid to late thirties, in the time since his divorce had gone through. Most had resulted in mediocre sex, while others had been too clingy, and Stannis had ended it early.

He was a hard man, a demanding man, and while he'd never hurt anyone, the things that Stannis liked in the bedroom, a dominance kink that he had, made it so that he'd need a woman that matched his desires, but that was also intelligent enough to keep his interest.

Stannis was also vain enough to admit that he was attracted to beauty, a real beauty, none of this fake shit. He was a tall man, fit and lean, and he wanted someone that matched him in every way.

He'd settled with Selyse, and while he'd gotten Shireen out of it, his marriage had been a massive disappointment for him. He’d been thirty-eight when he’d divorced with a fourteen year old daughter that had been his priority. Not dating. 

Now, at forty-six, he was unwilling to settle anymore when it came to women.

 **Stannis** : No.

Gods, he hoped that would be the end of it. Of course, this was Robert, so it wasn't.

 **Robert** : Well, you might be subject to sitting beside whatever single women we can find. There are two tables for the family, and without a date, you'll have to make do with what you get.

Stannis heaved out a sigh.

 **Stannis** : Fine

He hoped to god that neither Robert nor Cersei was planning anything for him. It was interminable when he inevitably had to let whatever woman they’d chosen for him down, and something he wished to avoid at all possible costs. At this point in his life, with his daughter, his hobbies and his highly demanding business, Stannis preferred to remain alone.

Stannis stalked into his room, changed into a sleek racing swimsuit and made his way to the impressive pool on the rooftop of the building he lived in. Stannis owned the entire top two floors, a wealthy man in his own right from sound investments, a sizable inheritance from his parents and just good business sense.

As he dove into the water, the lights of King’s Landing flickering in the background, his entire mind was occupied with Robert and his latest directive, and the hope that someday, somehow, Stannis would find the ability to stand up to his overbearing brother, and leave Stannis to his own devices.

Forty minutes later, muscles tired but the tension gone, Stannis exited the pool. Swimming had always been a physical outlet for him, much like the piano was a mental one. It kept him fit, along with this hour he spent every morning in his home gym, and his body leanly muscled and ready to react at a moment’s notice. Being in top physical shape was an absolute must for his line of work, and even now, in his middle years, Stannis knew he cut an impressive figure.

He’d pushed Robert and his demands to the back of his mind, instead focusing on the tasks in the coming days. Stannis would fly in, attend the fundraiser and leave the same night.

Yes, it was a disruption, but a manageable one. Before he knew it, he’d be back here, and if the weekend weather cooperated, perhaps he’d even have a chance to take his boat out on the water. With that to look forward to, Stannis pulled on the boxer briefs and slipped into his king-sized bed alone.

Stannis didn’t even allow his mind to drift to the ‘special’ features he’d had installed, knowing that the chances of a woman liking his kinks while stimulating him both intellectually and physically was rare. 

No, as he ruthlessly shut his mind down and ordered it to sleep, Stannis focused only on the upcoming days, and not on any type of dream of what his life might have been had he somehow been able to find a woman that met his needs sexually, emotionally and intellectually. She’d have to be a rare creature indeed.

That ship, as they said, had sailed, and he knew lingering on what he didn’t have was pointless. He had a good life, even if there was something missing. There always had been and he’d adjusted. It was what he did, and he expected nothing to change.

Satisfied he’d wrested some control back from the situation Robert demanded of him, he slipped off to sleep, knowing nothing he did said when it came to Robert would change his older brother, and knowing it was simply something he had to grit his teeth through.

He’d do this thing in the North and then he’d be back to his regularly scheduled life, one that he’d carefully crafted and enjoyed, even if, at moments like this, in the dead of the night, he could admit to himself that something was missing. He had no hope of finding that ‘something’ so he dismissed it from his brain, plumped his pillow and forced himself to fall asleep, all the while ignoring the tingle in his gut that told him everything in his life was about to change.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The political dinner

* * *

_ Stannis _

Stannis efficiently handled the powerful Range Rover that ate up the dark, rain-slicked streets of the North as he made his way from the hotel he was staying at, to the one where Eddard Stark had his campaign kickoff event. It was a miserable November night, dark, and it was barely past 4 pm.

He had said no to staying anywhere near his brother, especially after Robert had been almost apocalyptic when Stannis had refused to force Shireen to leave her university classes in the Stormlands to come to the event.

"She's family," Robert had sputtered.

If Stannis had believed for a single moment that Robert cared about Shireen, that it was a bonding moment for the family, he would have gladly had her come along. As it was, she would have been far better company than the people he was forced to spend time with tonight.

"She is my daughter." Stannis’s jaw had ticked.

"Which makes her family."

"Tell me what she's studying in University," Stannis had demanded.

Robert sputtered but had been unable to say anything. Stannis barely felt the disappointment. Robert had been a user since they'd been children and nothing had changed into adulthood. The man believed the entire world there to jump when he snapped his fingers.

Even now, Robert had allowed his powerful frame to go soft, his black hair liberally salted with grey, his face ruddy due to the amount of drink he consumed.

Comparatively, Stannis took pride in his fitness, his physic and the sharpness of his mind. He was a man that was never out of control and had very little time for bullshit and liars.

Stannis hadn't even responded when Robert's secretary, a simpering fool Stannis barely had the time of day for, tried to contact him for arrangements on where he was staying.

He'd attend the event, but there was no way Stannis was staying in the same location as Robert and his loathsome family.

Shireen had phoned him late Thursday evening for their weekly call, to tell him about a hiking trip she was taking with a few of her university friends.

"We're going into Crow's Nest," she told him. He could hear the excitement in her voice and was pleased for her.

Stannis and Shireen had spent many weekends hiking around their home region. He knew his daughter was competent in the mountains and was happy she was doing so well in both her studies and her personal life.

"That sounds decidedly more enjoyable that my plans," he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Shireen laughed. "Uncle Robert and Aunt Cersei?"

"Yes. How did you know?”

"He called. Well, Uncle Robert had Cella call. She tried to guilt me into it. But you know, hiking or hanging with Joffrey… well, the mountains won.” Myrcella was Shireen’s age, twenty-two although the cousins weren’t close. Cella was nice, but somewhat shallow. 

“Obviously,” Stannis grumbled, soothed only by his daughter's laughter. She was the best part of his life, and he treasured their weekly phone calls.

"Try just to grit your teeth and get through it."

"I will."

Stannis turned the conversation to hiking a decidedly more pleasant topic for the two of them, and by the time they ended the call, Stannis knew his daughter would be safe and most likely have a challenging and fun weekend in front of her.

Meanwhile, he'd had to do some serious placating, not his best characteristic, to assure Dany Drogo that his firm had her security firmly in hand. Thankfully his second in charge, Davos Seaworth, was there to smooth things over. Davos could sell ice to those that lived beyond the Wall; he was a born charmer. Dany was a pop sensation, and at twenty-seven, a pain in his ass client. 

Now, Stannis was in the North, miserable and hoping this night would go by quickly. He pulled into the hotel, and put the vehicle in park, exiting effortlessly. He handed his keys off to the valet, not even breaking stride.

The suit fit him perfectly, covering his leanly muscled body in a way that turned more than one head had Stannis cared to look. In a small act of rebellion, he'd decided against a tuxedo tonight and was sure Robert would have something to say about that.

He'd begun to shave his head years ago when he'd still been in the military, and his hairline had receded to the point that even his vanity had demanded that he do something. Objectively, he knew he cut an impressive figure, but his closed-off expression and piercing eyes more often than not had people turning away from him than into him.

He crossed the elegant lobby of the well appointment hotel that Ned had chosen, his powerful stride eating up the distance to the grand ballroom where the event was taking place.

Tasteless chicken, some type of overcooked vegetable, endless ass-kissing and inferior scotch. And all for something Stannis hardly cared about.

Politics baffled him. He had no aptitude for it. He understood them, of course. His IQ was high. But it was the nuances and the personalities that he struggled with. As such, he avoided it as much as possible. Which was almost impossible given who Robert was.

Of course, Renly lived for this, and Stannis saw him and his husband, Loras, immediately, holding court and looking more at ease than Stannis ever would. His youngest brother was a born extrovert and happily trotted himself out to help Robert with whatever his campaign needed.

Then his eyes landed on Robert and Cersei. And even though he knew their marriage was a sham, a political union more than anything, Stannis had to give Cersei Lannister-Baratheon her due. Tonight she looked like a woman in love with her husband as she hung off Robert and preened. She was the perfect political wife.

In their group were Ned and Catelyn Stark, and Cat’s sister Lysa and husband Jon. Robert, Ned and Jon were the best of friends, a formidable trio that Stannis had never been able to penetrate. It made him feel like even more of an outsider than he already was. Ned and Cat were a few years older than Robert and Cersei, while Lysa was a few years younger than both women. 

Couples.

 _Everyone was a couple,_ Stannis thought, resigned to this evening being even more interminable than he'd initially suspected.

Spying him, Robert's booming voice carried across the ballroom, and Stannis straightened, unable to let anyone see any weakness, and gave a small, tight nod before he grabbed a glass of subpar champagne and made his way towards his family.

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa had forgotten just how much fun her little sister could be. Long gone were their fights and misunderstandings from their youth and in its place a real and abiding friendship. The Stark sisters were one year apart in age and at twenty five and twenty six, they’d had found their grove with one another. Whenever she came North, Sansa always stayed with Arya and Jaqen. They had a little farmhouse on the edge of Winter Town, with a couple of acres and an odd assortment of farm animals.

A goat. Three chickens and a rescued lama. Of course, there were Arya's two beloved dogs, both rescued from the local animal welfare society and the comfortable worn furniture in the old house that Sansa found ridiculously charming.

Jaqen was a bit of a mystery. He worked in 'tech.'

Arya herself, a bit of a nerd and truly much smarter than she'd ever let on when they'd been growing up, had met him in her travels in between semesters when she'd been twenty-two. She'd kept him a secret for ages, their eight-year age difference enough to convince Arya that Cat would have a stroke the moment she found out.

But Jaqen had finally put his foot down and insisted that Arya at least introduce him to Sansa, who immediately saw how much he loved her little sister. Sansa would never say she was completely comfortable with the man from Braavos. There was a mystery to him that called to Sansa to dig deeper. But he was devoted to Arya and made her happy, so that made Sansa happy.

At first, Cat had insisted that Arya not bring him to any event that they were required to be at for Ned, but since the ring on Arya's third finger meant that Jaqen was soon to be family, Cat had finally relented. Shockingly, the man wore a tuxedo as if he'd been born to it, and had the manners of a Prince.

Catelyn soon fawned over him, knowing he was someone she could parade around as the man seemed to have an endless ability to smooth Arya's rough edges and put anyone at ease.

Now, Sansa watched as he pulled their Four Runner up to the swanky downtown hotel, and took Arya by the arm, kissing her softly. Her sister blushed and gazed at him adoringly.

Sansa gave them their moment; she was, after all, the third wheel. It wasn't that she was jealous, at all, for Sansa had no interest in Jaqen himself. But she did have a little pang of envy for not having someone in her life that simply got her the way Jaq got Arya. They were quite a pair, and Arya was gazing at her fiancé with love, before finally waving for Sansa to join them.

They hurried inside, knowing that their family would be waiting. They were late, which was mostly Sansa's fault, as she'd fiddled with her makeup, adding more blush, so her porcelain skin wasn't quite so pale. She knew there'd be photographs, and she hated when she looked like she was washed out. Her electric blue dress made her eyes pop, and she'd gone for her long red hair elegantly smooth and loose.

They entered the ballroom, to see their parents holding court. Of course, Cat's eyes narrowed on them.

"Uh oh," Arya whispered to Sansa. Both girls were resigned that their mother was not happy with them.

 _When on earth would she finally feel like she was her own woman?_ Sansa thought, as she allowed her mother to guide her, hand firmly on Sansa's elbow, towards the Baratheon family.

Outwardly, Sansa plastered the perfect politician's daughter smile on her face, while inside she was groaning.

Standing there, a smirk on his smug face, was Joffrey Baratheon. They were the same age, and their parents had been not so subtly pushing them together for years. Both families could see a political dynasty starting if something were to happen between Sansa and Joff. 

There might have been a period of time, ages and ages ago, before Sansa knew what type of person Joffrey was, when she'd had a crush on him. She'd been eighteen, and they'd been on vacation in the south, visiting Robert and Cersei at the Baratheon family mansion in Storm's End.

Sansa's crush had lasted three days before she'd overheard Joff berating one of the workers who helped with the Baratheon estate. She'd been disgusted to hear how he'd treated the man, simply because he was poor and from a 'lesser' family.

From that moment on, Sansa had seen behind the pretty face of Joff and to the cruel person beneath. Age had not improved him at all, although it had been a few years since she'd last had to see him.

"Sansa, darling," her mother said, giving her a look, "You remember Joffrey."

He leered at her and Sansa felt the ick factor with him rise. She swallowed hard and nodded.

"Joff."

"It's Joffrey," he corrected. Sansa barely refrained from rolling her eyes at him. "Joffrey Baratheon." He might have thought that line smooth, but it just came out as smarmy.

"And you've grown up well. Filled out some, not so skinny," he added, checking her out, lingering over her chest.

Sansa arched an eyebrow at him.

"You haven't."

He was thin and wimpy looking, standing next to a man that Sansa was trying to place. She knew virtually all the Baratheon's and this one had their look. Tall, built and dark.

She had it! This must be Stannis! It had been ages since Sansa had last seen him, and she tried to recall what she knew about the reclusive middle Baratheon brother. And could she just say, that he’d aged well. Very well. 

Divorced.

One daughter.

Former military.

She caught a flash of an amused twitch of Stannis's lips, before the man's face settled back into the severe countenance it had been in when she'd first been presented.

"Sansa," her mother hissed.

"What? It's not a compliment, Mother." How could her mother not see that Joff was a creep?

Sansa felt her mother pinch her arm, hard. They were locked in heated glare with one another when a discreet cough interrupted them.

"Ms. Stark, it has been ages since we've seen one another. I supposed a proper instruction is necessary," Stannis said smoothly, extending his hand to hers, while Joff glared, and her mother smiled tightly.

"Yes, Sansa, this is Stannis, Robert's younger brother. You remember him, don't you?"

In truth, she really didn't, but that was mostly because Sansa paid very little attention to the Baratheon's. After her crush on Joff had faded, Sansa had retreated into her books and studies, not understanding at all why her father got along with Robert so well.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Baratheon," Sansa said, giving him a charming smile. "I really don't."

He shook his head and shrugged. "No worries."

For a brief moment, there was an awkward silence, before Cersei gestured for Joffrey to come and meet Wynafryd Manderly. Wyn was Sansa’s age, from another prominent northern house. As far as Sansa cared, Wyn could have him. Catelyn began to look for Ned. She glanced between Sansa and Stannis and sighed.

"I suppose it's no use in hoping that you'd be willing to give Joffrey a chance, is there?"

Sansa gave an unladylike snort. "No, mother."

"We could join two great political houses, Sansa. If only you weren't so selfish."

With that last barb, Catelyn shook her head and went to find her husband, leaving Sansa standing there with Stannis.

She sighed, and took a deep pull of champagne and then grimaced, placing it on the tray of a passing server.

"Not to your taste?"

She shook her head. "No. If it must be champagne, at least make it the good stuff. But I prefer scotch myself."

Sansa saw she shocked him with that statement, and he gave her a little nod. "As do I."

He made a gesture, and a waiter hurried over, and Stannis gave him their order.

"Are you here alone?" he said when they were standing slightly off to the side.

"I am. You?"

"Always."

Sansa looked at him then. Really looked. He was an arresting man, of that there was no doubt, almost severe in looks. His eyes, though, were remarkable, and his jaw firm. She couldn't help but notice the long, elegant fingers that grasped the crystal glass that held two fingers of the amber liquid they were both drinking.

"I shouldn't say this, but this is the last place I want to be."

His laugh was short and harsh. "Agreed."

She was about to say more when the lights flickered, indicating it was time for them to take their seats for dinner and then speeches. As Sansa was ushered to her table, where she was seated between Joffrey and his sister Myrcella on the other side of her, she thought it was a pity that Stannis ended up at the other table reserved for the Stark-Baratheon families.

He really was the only person of any type of interest she'd met tonight, but now it seemed like there would be no more chance to speak with him. The moment her Dad announced his plans for re-election, Sansa was out of here. Then all thoughts of Stannis Baratheon faded, as Joffrey began to quiz her on her life, and what was already a miserable evening, suddenly got a whole lot worse.

* * *

_ Stannis _

It was remarkable what a few years could do, how much it could change things, Stannis thought as he was separated from Sansa and shown to his seat, Renly his younger brother by a decade, on one side, and Lysa Arryn on the other.

Because of his time in the military, he'd rarely been home when Ned and Robert had their families at Storm's End. The last time he'd seen Sansa Stark must have been at Joff's high school graduation party, as it was being thrown in both their honours since they were the same age, eighteen. Now, eight years later, at twenty-six, she’d bloomed into a beautiful woman. 

When he’d been at Storm’s End, Stannis and Selyse had recently separated, and he'd been reeling from the divorce and solely focused on not losing his daughter.

The only reason he'd even attended the damn party was that Robert was trying to set him up with his accountant, some woman in her mid thirties named Melisandre and had insisted he'd come.

Of course, that had been a nightmare. Too much whiskey, too much goading by his brothers and a boatful of regret later, Stannis had slunk from the hotel room where he'd spent the weekend buried balls deep in Melisandre and home to his lonely flat in King's Landing.

He refused to be that man—the pathetic, divorced mess of man, approaching his forties and fucking anything in sight.

Robert thought it great fun and had razzed him for weeks afterwards, and then thrown woman after woman at him, in an attempt to get Stannis to quote, "lose the stick up your arse. Unless you like that kind of thing, like Renly."

It has been that crass comment that had made Stannis stay away from Robert for two straight years until he'd finally apologized and grovelled enough. By that time, Stannis had his company going, his divorce finalized and his daughter in his custody. Selyse was not an appropriate guardian for a fourteen-year-old girl, and he and Shireen had both been happy when she'd come to live with him full time.

With his daughter entirely in his care, Stannis had devoted himself to her. No more women, no more drunken binges, no more letting Robert goad him into doing something he wasn't comfortable with.

Did that mean he hadn't slept with a woman in eight years? No. But when he did so, it was discreet, impersonal and over in one or two nights. It was an itch he scratched, and in the past three years, one he'd indulged in fewer and fewer times. The sex was never satisfying, and he never really got what he wanted out of those encounters.

Stannis knew the type of physical relationship he wanted. And what he truly craved required an emotional connection. One couldn't play bondage games lightly – there needed to be a foundation of trust and acceptance and clear rules between partners. There hadn't been a single woman that had sparked anything in him to try to make their vanilla sexual encounters anything more.

Now, however, he couldn't help but be drawn to Sansa's laugher. She was seated right behind him, between Cella and Joff, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation.

Cella had her occupied talking fashion, and Stannis saw that Sansa's hummed appropriately, but her eyes were almost glazed over in boredom.

That was until Joff leaned into her space.

"Sansa, baby, why are you acting like a cold fish?"

"Don't call me that."

"What? Baby. You could be mine if you played your cards right."

Stannis watched as Joff let his hand trail down her exposed shoulder. Stannis saw red. He was almost halfway out of his seat when Sansa's voice stopped him.

"Get your hand off of me before I break it," Sansa gritted through her clenched teeth.

"Fuck, you're a frigid bitch," Joff muttered, dragging his hand back and shaking his head at her.

Stannis sat, but he was seething inside. Joffrey had always been an entitled shithead, but this was crossing the line. He had a look in his eyes that Stannis didn't like as he kept glancing back at Sansa.

The lights dimmed, and the speeches started, and the entire time, Stannis kept his eye on Joff. Who kept glancing at Sansa. She'd moved her chair further from his and towards Cella.

An hour later, just as things were 'wrapping up' Stannis saw a door open, and two men slip out of the main ballroom. When the cheers went up for Ned, Robert rose, clapped his friend on the back and then followed the two men outside the main ballroom. Frowning, Stannis wondered where his bodyguards were. And why Robert was leaving now. Ned was just about to announce his re-election plans and Robert always loved it when the spotlight was on, or close, to him. 

"For god's sake, stop talking," Sansa said. "You're disgusting, and I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on earth."

Knowing he'd missed something, Stannis turned and watched as Sansa threw her napkin down and rose. He watched her go, admiring her figure before he slipped into the seat she'd vacated.

"Uncle," Joff sneered, taking a large gulp of his drink.

Drunk. _Unsurprising,_ Stannis thought. He was just like his father.

Stannis leaned in and spoke, low and menacing.

"You'll forget that woman, Joffrey."

"Or what? You don't scare me."

He spoke a big game, but Stannis could see he was wary. He invaded his space further.

"No? Maybe you haven’t taken a close enough look.”

"My father would…"

Stannis whispered in Joffrey's ear, interrupting him.

"If I wanted something done to you, I could do so and not ever leave a trace. No one would even find you if that's what I chose. I could make it look like an accident, a suicide…. I could make it so you screamed for days, and no one would ever hear you."

Joff's eyes were wide, and Stannis could smell the fear pouring off of him. He was sweating and Stannis was disgusted.

"Leave Sansa Stark alone."

Joff gave him a short, jerky nod, and then Stannis rose, slimming down his coat and went to find Sansa. He wanted to make sure she was alright. Stalking out of the room, Stannis barely realized the figure he cut, and how nobody dared get in his way.

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa had caught Roose and another man she didn't recognize leaving the event right before her father finished his speech. She knew if her mother found her out here there would be hell to pay. But curiously got the best of her. Why would Roose, one of her father's biggest supporters, leave now?

Driven by her insatiable curiosity, Sansa had to follow. As a bonus? It got her away from Joff Baratheon. The guy was a pig and immature, and she couldn't wait to escape him. What her mother was thinking was beyond her. It was so frustrating that a person's name and their status meant so much to her mother, even though both Arya and Robb had dug their heels in and married for love. Or were about to.

 _Go Stark siblings_ , Sansa though, a bit enviously. If she ever married, it would only be for love. 

Sansa shook Joff from her thoughts as she approached the door where Roose had vanished, just to see Robert heave his bulky frame upwards and begin to hurry to that same door. That was weird. Very, very weird.

Robert never left these things early, and not when the 'big moment' was almost upon Ned and Cat. Sansa knew she was expected to be there, to be called to the stage and stand by her father as he promised the people of the North he'd represent them well should they elect him again. It was almost a foregone conclusion in the North; people loved the Starks.

Still, her curiosity was piqued, and she crept down the hallway, to see the three men standing there, whispering angrily at one another.

"Figure it out, Robert or I'll have to take more drastic measures," Roose said, in a menacing tone, his pale eyes sending shivers down Sansa's spine. She cursed herself for not bringing her purse until she remembered she had her phone in her hand. It was crazy what adrenaline did to the brain!

Swiping it open, Sansa chose the camera and zoomed in on the three men. She caught the other man, also older with stringy grey hair, lean closer into the senator from the Stormlands.

"We don't have time for your games, Robert. The time to strike is now. We've never been this close to having control of the…"

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a crash, and all three men looked around. Sure she was to be spotted, Sansa found herself spun around and looking into the eyes of Stannis Baratheon. 

"Shhhhh," he whispered and put a finger to his mouth, and then moved her quickly, pinning her against the wall, shielding her with his body as the three men hurried by. He lowered his mouth to her ear.

"It'll look like we're kissing," Stannis whispered.

A shiver ran through Sansa and she realized, shockingly, it wasn't just from how close she'd come to being discovered spying on Roose Bolton, Robert Baratheon and Balon Greyjoy. She'd finally recognized the third man when he'd turned around. No, the shiver was one of… desire. She’d like how Stannis had taken control, kept her safe, reacted quickly.

None of the three men took a closer look at them, as Stannis had boxed her in. They appeared to simply be two people who couldn't wait until the afterparty. When they were finally alone, Stannis stepped back, and Sansa let go of the suit she'd been holding onto.

She smoothed out her dress and ran a hand over her hair. Both of them heard the clapping from inside, and she glanced at the doors.

"Thank you. I have to go."

Stannis stepped back further and nodded once.

Shaken, unsure what had just happened and not knowing why she'd felt so safe with a man she barely knew, Sansa hurried away, forcing herself not to look back at Stannis Baratheon. He was, even more, a mystery to her now than he had been a few hours ago.

She opened the door to the ballroom, plastered on a fake smile and quickly joined her family on stage, all the while her mind was racing at what she'd overheard and the man that had come to her rescue. He’s stirred something inside her, and a part of Sansa wondered if she’d ever find out exactly what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Sansa gets some threats.... Stannis can't stop thinking about her


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month later 
> 
> Loads more Stansa in this one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My author's note is very to the point:
> 
> They are consenting adults both with a mild dom/sub kink. MILD. And they will discuss and communicate all of this BEFORE any type of sexual interaction happens. 
> 
> IF this is NOT your cup of tea, fair enough. You have been warned so if you read further, I am going to play with this idea. This is NOT 50 shades of grey - or I don't think so. I honestly never read the books. But please don't read ahead and then get mad at me if this isn't to your liking. 
> 
> Also there is very mild Sansa and other and Stannis and other in this chapter but I promise you, it's over by the end. 
> 
> That said, I honestly LOVE this chapter and hope you do as well. I am cranking up the action and the heat!!!!

* * *

_One Month Later _

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa was hopping around her bedroom, trying to find the matching shoe for her favourite red pair of heels, when her phone rang. Cursing, she dove for it on her bed, seeing her sister's name on the screen.

"You ready?"

"Almost."

"He'll be there any moment, San."

"Jeez, Arry, I know. I'm trying."

Arya grunted, sounding put out. Why Sansa’s love life was so important to her sister was beyond Sansa’s knowledge.

"Honestly, I am."

Arya sighed. "I know. I just thought this one had a real shot, you know."

"Who says it doesn't?"

Arya snorted. "San, the man is built like a fucking brick house. You could climb him for days. His muscles have muscles. And you gave him a 'meh' when I asked about sparkage on the first date."

"But that's not my fault," Sansa protested. "Loads of people don't have instant chemistry on their first date."

Even as she said the words, her brain made a liar out of her. Her mind immediately went to the moment when Stannis Baratheon had pressed himself against her, in the hotel in the North. He’d instinctively protected her, and there had been enough heat between them to start a fire in that brief moment.

"Besides, it was a baseball game. I mean, how much sexual chemistry can there be with hotdogs and beer?"

Arya laughed, and Sansa swore she was shaking her head at her.

"San, Dickon Tarly is hot stuff. He’s twenty-seven and was voted the most eligible bachelor in the Reach for the second straight year. I mean, I didn't expect you to marry him and give him babies, but at least scratch an itch."

Sansa sighed. How did you tell your baby sister that your 'itch' was a dominant man with a commanding voice and knowledge of how to tie her up and make her scream?

"I'm trying, Arya, I am," Sansa said softly.

"I know, sister. I just want you to be happy. As happy as I am.” And that was the crux of it. Arya meant well.

"Me too."

Sansa was on all fours, digging through her closet when she came up with her other shoe. Triumphant, she promised to give Dickon a shot, just as the doorbell rang.

"Gotta go. Love you!"

"Love you too."

Sansa opened her door to see Dickon Tarly standing there, his handsome face breaking into a smile when he saw her. He really was the sweetest guy, and Sansa gave herself a little lecture. She needed to provide him with a real chance because it wasn't like men were beating down her door to date her. Maybe she would never find that perfect man. Was she going to be alone forever? She didn’t want that, at all.

He handed her the bouquet, daisies, and then pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her cheek. Sansa sighed and thanked him, hurrying to put them in water. It was all so…. Nice.

Ugh. She hated that word, especially when it came to her love life. She wanted passion and a great love and…

"Oh, and this." She turned back and saw he was holding a plant in a little pot that appeared to be dried up, dead.

"That's not mine," Sansa said, shaking her head, wondering what Dickon was playing at.

He frowned. "That's weird. It was sitting on your doorstep."

A slight shiver ran over Sansa's skin. For the past month, there has been odd little things like that showing up around her, either at home, on her car or at work. Lots of hang-ups from unknown numbers, a flat tire, a dead rose left on her car windshield, a cryptic note. She'd pushed it all aside; sure it was a coincidence. After all, it was the beginning of December, and some people got weird around Christmastime.

And since her story broke about Professor Petyr Baelish not only taking money but also sexual favours from students, she'd received more than one 'angry' email and phone call – from both parents and students alike. It seemed that not everyone appreciated her honesty.

"Just toss it in the bin out there," she said, turning to put the daisies in water. She grabbed her coat and smiling at Dickon, took his offered arm and promised herself to give him a chance.

* * *

Three hours later, after a perfectly sweet and normal date, where Sansa had laughed at all the right times, and Dickon had made all the right moves, she gently closed the door after a hot and heavy make-out session with him on her couch. Unfortunately, she felt almost nothing.

Not that he didn't have the best body if you went for the built type of guy.

Dickon was a personal trainer and fitness model, and he practiced what he preached… er taught. Sansa could feel the ten pack through his shirt, and while some might find that attractive, her mind had drifted to another man all night.

She had no idea why she couldn't get Stannis Baratheon out of her head, but as she wandered through her tiny house, tidying up along the way, the hum of desire that had been sorely missing with Dickon roared to life when she thought of the man from the Stormlands.

She was so caught up in Stannis, that when she crawled into bed half an hour later, Sansa found her smuttiest dominant/submissive romance book on her Kindle and willingly indulged in some solo play. She loved a good orgasm as much as the next woman, and as she got into the scene that the author's words painted, she imagined herself, kneeling before Stannis, calling him Mr. Baratheon and offering to suck him off.

It was his name she cried out in her bed; his eyes she imagined on her while she made him come in her mouth, and his hands on her head holding her to his cock. It was Stannis that made her orgasm at the thought of being with him.

Panting, she lay there, wondering what on earth was the matter with her that she was projecting all of this onto Stannis of all people. What made Stannis the man of her fantasies?

Sansa had long ago come to terms with her slightly submissive kink. She didn't want to visit a BDSM club, nor did she want a 'master.' She wasn't into Daddy games, and public displays weren't her thing. In terms of her kink, she was almost vanilla.

Almost.

She did fantasize about a man that took control, that knew her wants and desires, that pushed her boundaries. When she was twenty three, she’d had one boyfriend that had slapped her butt, once, and she'd loved it, arching into the slight sting. He had been twenty five, and had been mortified and had never tried again, and that relationship had fizzled.

She had so much going on in her day to day life that the thought of turning herself and her pleasure over to a man that knew how to get it out of her, thrilled and excited her.

But she had no idea how to go about finding such a man. She wanted a relationship with someone that shared her… fantasy. Not a one night stand. She needed to trust that man, trust that he'd keep her safe, respect her boundaries, discover what she needed. Better yet if she was in love with him, and that she could give herself over to him entirely.

And she needed him to understand that all her fantasies about being a submissive stopped at the bedroom. Because in her real life? Sansa was fully in charge and wouldn't give that up for anyone.

The issue was, where to find such a man, beyond the alpha males she read about in the romance novels that did not seem to exist in real life. And how did one bring that up on a date?

_Hello, my name is Sansa. I like lemon tarts, dogs, political thrillers and spanking. Do you want to tie me up?_

She cringed as she shut off both her vibrator and Kindle, cleaned herself up and crawled back into bed. This was why she was single. This was why she had a Kindle Unlimited subscription. And this was why, no matter how nice Dickon Tarly was, he'd never be it for her. He just didn't get her engine roaring, and she refused to settle for anything less.

As for Stannis Baratheon? They both lived in King's Landing and never ran into one another. She was almost twenty years younger than him and she was sure he had no interest in her.

Besides, a man like that into what she liked? Please. That would be like a dream come true, and those things just didn't happen to Sansa Stark.

* * *

"It was good work, Stark," Oberyn Martell said, lounging back in his chair, looking at her. They were having their weekly 'staff' meeting, which mostly consisted of the guys eating donuts and her drinking her extra-large caramel latte. "The Baelish story. Any blowback?"

Sansa shrugged.

"Some."

Oberyn's eyes narrowed. He might look like a playboy, but he was smart, and he defended his staff like a mama lion and her cub.

"Like what?"

"Dead plants, angry emails, few phone calls. Oh, I had a flat tire a few weeks ago."

Sandor grunted, and Pod looked worried while Oberyn's eyes settled on her.

"Are you worried?"

She shook her head. "Nah. I mean, it hasn't been anything really. Although the other night, I had a dead plant left on my doorstep."

"They know where you live?"

Sansa looked at Sandor. "Maybe. No note and I have no idea if it was meant for me or not."

There was silence.

"Look, guys, I appreciate the concern, but honestly, it feels like nothing."

"You'll tell us if it escalates," Oberyn said, his words an order, not a suggestion.

Sansa nodded.

"I will."

"So, what do you have upcoming?"

Sansa filled them in on what she'd overheard in the North at her Dad's event. She could see Oberyn's eyes glittering. The man, like her, loved nothing more than exposing the corrupt and liars in King's Landing.

"What's your next move?"

"I'm going to dig into Bolton and Greyjoy financials. I have a feeling there is something there."

Sandor grunted. "Boltons are connected to the Old Lion. You know that, right?"

Sansa nodded. Everyone knew that Tywin Lannister, the wealthiest man in Westeros and one that was seemingly above the law, had his hands in many, many, many pockets. Somehow, he always remained outside the law and above reproach, even though everyone knew he'd 'fixed' more than one problem for those under his protection.

"I know. But there were no Lannisters anywhere near this event, except for Cersei. And it was Robert, not her, that was talking with Roose and Balon."

"Bolton's into what? Casinos?" Oberyn asked.

"Yup."

"Hmmm, easy way to launder money, move drugs," Oberyn said, and Sansa nodded.

"Yup. The big question is, how is Robert connected? And if he is, what did they mean when they said they were almost in position to … what?"

She'd played the video for her three colleagues and none of them had any idea what Balon had been about to say.

"Keep digging Stark. I think you're onto something. But be safe!" Oberyn order and she gave him a snappy little salute.

She was just about out the door when Sandor caught up to her. He gently took her by the elbow and off to the side while people streamed inside their building, getting out of the wet weather.

"What is it? I have a date," she told him as he frowned.

"It's just… be careful, Sansa. These aren't people that like it when you mess with them."

Sansa knew Sandor had grown up in the West, where Tywin ruled like a modern King. She also knew he cared and was looking out for her.

"I will, Sandor. Thanks. I promise, if anything feels off, I'll tell my Dad, immediately."

Sandor gave her a slow nod. "Yeah, that's good. Alright. Be careful, little bird."

"I will." Then she said her goodbyes and dashed off.

She'd promised to give Dickon three dates, and if she didn't hustle her butt, she'd be late for the third, and what was looking like the final one.

As she drove home, a part of her wondered why she even tried, but she knew Arya would be on her case if she didn’t follow through, and she was tired of being lonely.

Maybe something would spark between them tonight? A girl could hope. And in the meantime, she would wear a killer dress, some awesome heels and just enjoy not eating bad take out and pouring over old dusty records alone on a Friday night.

* * *

Dickon had his hand on her back as he escorted her through an expensive upscale Italian restaurant in King's Landing trendy Maegor's Holdfast region. This was the place to be seen, and Sansa had spotted more than one famous face here, wondering how Dickon had gotten them a table.

She caught sight of them in a window and had to admit, and they made quite a stunning pair. He had height, which she appreciated, since she loved to wear stilettos when she dressed up, and his body was really quite delicious. Still, when he'd kissed her tonight upon his arrival, there was nothing more than a warm stir in her heart and her body. There was just nothing more there than friendship.

Even his hand on her lower back, her _bare_ lower back as the dress had no back, did nothing for her.

Which was odd, because as they walked across the restaurant, Sansa felt a shiver run down her spine, as if she were being watched. She turned, trying to see if she recognized anyone, she had almost made it through the entire restaurant when her eyes landed on him.

Stannis Baratheon.

He was sitting at the best table in the house, with a stunning petite blond woman whose hair was almost silver. Sansa recognized her immediately. It was Dany Drogo, the pop sensation from Essos, whose husband had died tragically a few years earlier in a motorcycle accident. She was young, wealthy, and talented. And she was on a date with Stannis.

Her Stannis.

Her fantasy man.

Sansa's heart sank. So much for her theory that younger women didn't do it for him. Dany was only one year older than Sansa.

As if she realized she had stopped in the middle of the restaurant, Sansa flushed when Stannis's gaze met hers. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she blushed and then turned back to Dickon.

"Do you know them?"

Sansa waved a hand. "Barely."

She put a smile on her face and then asked where their table was.

At that moment, their maître d' appeared and looked distraught. "There has been an unfortunate mix up," he was saying, working his hands over. "It appears that your table was given away by one of our more junior people."

Dickon flushed, appearing angry. "That's impossible! I made the reservation a week ago!”

"I'm sorry, sir, I am. It'll be half an hour until I can get you in. Perhaps the bar…”

Before anyone could say anything more, a voice Sansa had fantasied about interrupted their little group.

"Is there a problem?"

Stannis was standing right there, almost beside her.

_What was he doing?_

_Why wasn't he with Dany?_

_And why did he have to look so good?_

The bespoke suit, dark and flattering, hugged his leanly muscular frame. It was a look Sansa realized she preferred to Dickon's more apparent muscles. Everything about Stannis appealed to her. Except for the fact that he was dating the most famous woman in the world.

"No problem," Sansa said, eyes cold and expression remote. She couldn’t let him see what she was feeling. It was ridiculous. He owed her nothing.

She turned from Dickon, dismissing Stannis, unsure why she felt hurt he was with another woman. She had no claim on him; she'd barely spoken with him.

"Dickon, let's go somewhere else."

She saw he was about to protest, but something in Stannis's face must have changed his mind. For the first time since they'd been dating, his arm tightened around her. Too bad it was too little, too late. Even standing this close to Stannis, Sansa felt the pull towards him and not her date.

"Yes, lets." He grasped her hand and was ready to lead her from the restaurant when suddenly Dany appeared.

"Stanny, who's this?" Her voice was sweet, her smile in place, but all of it was fake.

Sansa saw Stannis stiffen, and she wondered why he allowed this woman to call him that. She wanted to demand that she call him by his proper name. Couldn’t she see he was Stannis, not Stanny?

Instead, Stannis put his hand on Dany's shoulder and looked at Sansa.

"A friend. Ms. Stark, please meet, Dany Drogo. Dany, Sansa."

Dany held out her hand, but her eyes were glittering pools of purple hatred.

"Sansa."

"Dany."

They shook hands as if they both would rather be doing anything else. Then Dany wrapped herself around Stannis, pressing her lush little body closer to him. Sansa wanted to hurl, as Dany petted him.

"Come back to our table, Stannis. I'm lonely without you. Just like I am when you leave my house."

Stannis stiffened again, as his eyes held Sansa's. She thought he might want to say something, but she put her chin up. She needed to get out of here, now.

"Yes, don't let us keep you. Enjoy your night."

Sansa took Dickon by the hand and marched out of the restaurant, not looking back, leaving a wake of emotion and confused feelings behind her.

Once outside, they walked until they found a steak house and settled into their seats, both ordering quickly.

When she'd taken a fortifying sip of wine, Dickon gave her a rueful smile.

"It's him, isn't it?"

"Him? Him, who?"

"Stannis Baratheon. The reason I can't get anywhere with you."

Sansa snorted and drank deeply. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Dickon rested his hand over hers. "Sansa, the thing I like best about you, besides how hot you are, is that you are honest to a fault. And smart. Never knew I liked that in a woman. But even a dumb jock like me could see the sparks between the two of you."

She shook her head and felt the tears rush up. Angrily, she wiped them away. "I barely know him."

Dickon shrugged, sliding easily into the role of her friend, where all men seemed to end up with her these days.

"Doesn't seem like that matters much. Just what it is."

She said nothing, until finally, "I'm sorry."

"San, don't. Honestly, I wasn't feeling it either. I wish I did. We look awesome together," he said, a massive grin on her face, and Sansa laughed and shook her head at him.

"You're a good man, Dickon Tarly."

He grinned. "Here's what we're gonna do. Eat some steak, drink some drinks and then I take you home. And when you need a friend, you call. Baseball game, charity event, whatever. I'll be your arm candy, San."

She laughed and thought about, finally nodding. "Alright. But same goes. I've seen your ads, Mr. Male Model."

His laugh was rich and deep, and while a part of her regretted that there could never be anything more with him, she was grateful for a new friend.

Later, a bit tipsy from too much wine, and slightly sad at yet another prospect driving off, Sansa dug through her purse to find her keys. She'd insisted she didn't need help getting inside, and it would have just been awkward. She stumbled a bit, got the key into the lock and then stepped in something sticky.

And warm.

She looked down, unable to process what she was seeing. It was something red. And bloody. And dead – too mutilated to make it out. There was a note, and as her eyes adjusted, she felt her blood turn to ice.

_Curious cats, like curious reporters, have a way of turning up dead._

Sick, she heaved into the bushes and then backed away, turning and sprinting for her car, pulling out her phone and calling the one man she knew could help her.

"Yes?" came his deep, reassuring voice.

"Daddy. I think I have a problem."

* * *

_ Stannis  _

Stannis figured if he ground his jaw any tighter, his molars would be dust. From the moment he took this contract with Dany, things had been out of control – and he was a man that hated to be out of control.

Dany Drogo had turned out to be the worst type of client. For a month, since the moment he'd come back from the North, she'd demanded the 'best' of Baratheon security and that meant him.

She seemed to think that made it so he was at her beck and call, and while he'd gone further to appease her than he had with most clients, her behaviour tonight had been out of bounds.

Stannis had not stopped thinking about Sansa Stark since the moment she'd turned and walked back into the ballroom in the North. He knew it was ridiculous; she was almost twenty years his junior and would never be interested in a man like him. But even when he told himself that, he'd seen something flare in her eyes when he'd pressed her up against that wall, using his body to shield hers.

She'd submitted automatically to his authority when she had been in danger, and his cock had been hard for days, thinking about it. He had no doubt she was an intelligent woman, more than just a gorgeous face. He'd come home and read everything she'd ever written and cheered when she'd broken the scandal of Baelish and his cheating at the local university.

She was beautiful, career-driven and had integrity.

And if his instincts were correct, had a slightly submissive kink.

In other words, she was his dream woman.

And clearly taken if the hulking mass of man she was with tonight was any indication. He hadn’t even considered she’d be dating anyone, since she was single when she’d been in the North. But a woman like her? Men would be lining up for days just for a chance with her.

 _And who could blame them?_ Stannis thought.

Now, back seated across from Dany, Stannis was fuming.

"Who is she?" Dany asked, voice cold. She was a jealous, temperamental thing, that seemed to think he gave a fuck about keeping her happy. He did not. His job was to keep her safe, not happy. 

"None of your business."

"It is when you work for me."

Stannis snarled and leaned forward.

"Let's get one thing straight. I am here to provide security for you. That is all. I am not your date, your toy, or your plaything. I will not be ordered around by you. After tonight, I will transfer all of your detail over to Davos Seaworth. If that is not to your liking, then we are done and I will terminate our contract. Are we clear?"

She arched an eyebrow, that looked like a caterpillar, Stannis thought rudely and sneered.

"You'd lose me as a client for her?"

"In a fucking heartbeat," Stannis responded.

Her eyes narrowed. "I could destroy you."

Stannis snorted.

"Don't even try. I have more dirt on you than you know. I don't give a fuck that you're sleeping Missandei and her boyfriend, nor do I care that sometimes Daario joins the three of you. It does not matter to me. But do not threaten me; not when I can make your squeaky clean pop princess image disappear for good.” All four of them were hedonistic mid-twenty-somethings that were far too immature for Stannis and his tastes. 

Twin spots of colour appeared on her cheeks, and she threw her napkin down. "I have no more appetite."

"Thank the gods," Stannis muttered, signalling for the bill.

He should have put a stop to this weeks ago but had seen no harm in allowing Dany her indulgences.

Tonight, he'd seen genuine hurt in Sansa's eyes as she thought he was here on a date with this wretched woman, which meant, against all the odds, that maybe, just maybe, she had felt what he had. That she might have been interested in him. Now it was a mess.

Forty minutes later, Stannis had dropped Dany off and called in a team to watch over her. She said she'd 'think about her future with Baratheon Security' and get back to him.

Stannis didn't care in the least anymore, too depressed over what Sansa must think of him and the fact that he’d blown any chance he might have had with her.

He was almost at his building when his phone rang. Since only a very few people had his private number, he answered immediately.

"Stannis Baratheon."

"Stannis, its Ned." The man from the North sounded distraught. It could only mean one thing.

 _Sansa_!

"What is it?"

"It's my daughter, Sansa. She arrived home tonight to find a dead cat on her doorstep, with a note. A threatening note."

"Where is she?" Stannis barked, banking the car sharply and taking a chance that she was still at her home. He’d looked up her address when he’d gotten back from the North, grateful now at his fascination with her. His blood was pumping, and he knew she had to be in danger.

"Her house. In her car. She won't phone the police. She ahhh… well, she seems to not trust them. Or… well, anyone. You're the only one I've phoned. I haven't even told Cat."

"Don't. Do not tell anyone, Ned. I'm hanging up. I'll be there in seven minutes. Phone her back and stay on the line with her and tell her I am coming."

Ned said he would and hung up, while Stannis tried to calm his racing heart. She was in danger, and she was his. He didn't know how or why, but he knew it was his job to protect her. He reached over, opened his glove box and took out his gun. He would go in armed and knew he was a deadly shot. No one would harm her once he got to her.

He squealed around the corner five minutes later and roared up to her house. His trained eyes took in everything, including the bloodied animal on her doorstep and her sitting in her little car. He put his vehicle in park and was striding towards her. She opened her door and flew into his arms, shaking.

He caught her, wondering how it was possible it felt so right to have her there.

"It's there, and I didn't know what to do…. Who to call. I just…"

"Hush, I'm here," he said, holding her to him, while she calmed down. She burrowed into his embrace and his arms tightened around her.

 _Thank the gods he’d gotten to her in time_ , he thought, not even wanting to think what he might feel had something happened to her.

"Did you go inside?"

Stannis felt her shake her head and look to him. "I got my keys in the door and then stepped in it."

He nodded. "Ok. Give me a few minutes. I'm going to check things out. Go to my car, Sansa and wait."

She went to protest, and he gave her a look. Huffing, she went and sat inside his car. Then and only then, did Stannis approach her front door. He looked at the cat first and took a quick picture, including the note, which made his blood run cold. The threat was unmistakable. Someone wanted to hurt her.

What was less evident to a man without his skills, was the fact that someone had messed with her door. There was a tiny amount of metal shavings, indicating someone had been inside her house without her permission. He looked through the window, careful not to touch anything, and then his eyes went wide.

He saw the timer, the red numbers unmistakable, as his brain registered what was happening. He turned, sprinting to his car, sliding inside and revving the engine.

"What is it?" Sansa cried as he reversed, as an enormous explosion rocked them back, her little house suddenly engulfed in flames. Her mouth dropped open, and Stannis cursed, knowing they had mere moments to getaway.

His mind was racing as he sped from the inferno, knowing the authorities would be on their way.

"Why didn't you call the cops?" he asked her, hating how harsh he sounded, knowing she was in shock.

"What?"

"The cops. When you found the cat, why didn't you call them?"

She was shaking. "I don't know. I mean, I just… they don't seem trustworthy."

"It's about this thing you saw in the North, isn't it. At Ned's campaign kickoff. Who is involved, Sansa?" His voice was demanding. He needed information, answers, if he were to keep her safe.

She swallowed hard. "The Boltons and Greyjoys. Possibly Tywin Lannister." Paused. "And Robert."

"Fuck," Stannis cursed. He wanted to smash his fist into something, but instead, just tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Where are we going?"

"My penthouse. No one but your Dad knows I have you. It's safe. For now."

There was silence in the car, and he cursed again.

"Give me your phone."

She handed it over without a word, her face pale and eyes glassy. He fiddled with it, disabling it and the tracking device on it. He'd dispose of it more thoroughly when they were at his place. For now, he just needed to make it seem like she had disappeared. It would buy them time.

From what, he didn't know. He had no idea who exactly was after her, but if she'd angered the Great Lion, there would be hell to pay.

As he sped through the dark streets of King’s Landing, all he knew was that she was with him now, and he had no intention of giving her up. Not for anyone or anything in the world, no matter how great the threat. Sansa Stark was in his custody, and he'd protect her with his life if needs be. She was his, and Stannis wouldn’t give her up without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Stannis goes to extremes to protect Sansa and the heat between the two of them ramps way up!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallout

* * *

_ Sansa  _

Sansa felt cold, off-kilter and fuzzy as Stannis expertly raced them away from the inferno that was blazing behind them.

 _Her house,_ she thought. She was too numb even to process that her entire world had just, quite literally, blown up.

No exaggeration necessary, she thought a bit wildly. Her life was on fire.

Strangely enough, her first thought was, thank god for the cloud.

All of her work, all her research she had backed up to the cloud. She wondered what she was going to do now. She didn't even have a place to stay, had only the clothing on her back, her purse and her shoes. She could feel her brain-numbing as if to protect her from the trauma she'd just been through. She couldn't think, which she hated, but she was so bewildered.

Had her house just … ignited? Like something from an action movie?

"Why didn't you call the cops?" the low, harsh voice of Stannis Baratheon asked, cutting through the brain fog.

"What?" She tried to shake her head, but it did nothing. It felt like she was in quicksand and couldn't get her bearings.

"The cops. When you found that cat, why didn't you call them?"

Before she could formulate a proper response, she was shaking her head. "I don't know. I mean, I just… they don't seem trustworthy."

It was more than that. The moment she realized that Balon Greyjoy and Roose Bolton ran casinos that belonged to Tywin Lannister, she knew the cops were out. Tywin's son, his eldest, his heir, was on the King's Landing police force. She couldn't risk it.

"It's about this thing you saw in the North, isn't it? At Ned's campaign kickoff. Who is involved, Sansa?"

Stannis's voice was demanding.

She wondered, for a moment, if she could trust him. Sure, he'd saved her. But why was he there? And where was his date? But if he wanted her dead, all he'd have to have done was let her walk into her house.

She took a deep breath and a chance. There was something about Stannis that screamed trustworthy, and she'd never responded to another man the way she did him. Being in his arms, even for those few seconds when he’d first shown up, had felt wonderful.

"The Boltons and the Greyjoys. Possibly Tywin Lannister."

She paused, hesitant to say the last name. "And Robert."

"Fuck." The curse word filled the vehicle, but Sansa didn't shrink away from it. It wasn't her fault that Robert was involved, and she wouldn't apologize. He needed to know what and who she was investigating.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked as she tried to get her bearings.

"My penthouse. No one but your Dad knows I have you. It's safe. For now."

Something warmed in Sansa at those words. He had her. Despite the horror of the night, she was here with Stannis. Then she remembered what she'd interrupted a few hours earlier and felt chilled again.

He was taken. He wasn't hers. He'd never be hers.

"Give me your phone."

It was a command, and one she obeyed, immediately, handing it over without complaint. It was clear she was in over her head, and she knew the reputation of the man she was sitting in the vehicle beside. There was no one better in all of Westeros to keep her safe. Still, she shook, unable to get herself warm, and that fuzzy feeling was back, rendering her all but mute.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into an underground parking garage, and Stannis parked the car.

"Wait a moment," he told her, voice still commanding, but slightly softer. Perhaps he'd seen her reaction and tempered his.

"I'm disabling the cameras down here. That is my private elevator," he said, pointing to a second doorway, away from the main entrance. "Walk directly there, and I will soon have you in the safest place in King's Landing."

Sansa nodded and then looked down, noting for the first time her feet were splattered with gore and blood. Fighting the wave of nausea that threatened to consume her, she glanced up and saw Stannis staring at her.

"Are you with me, Sansa?" he asked a slight lilt to his voice. It had softened even further, and she nodded, swallowing hard.

"I am."

"Good. I'm going to open the car doors, and then we go."

There was a soft click, and she opened the door and stood, wavering only once.

Somehow, Stannis was there, his hand on her back, guiding her quickly towards the elevator. Whereas Dickon's hand on that same part of her back had done nothing, now Sansa felt the heat of Stannis's hand there, and it broke through some of the chill that had settled over her body.

Within moments they were in the safety of the elevator and zooming to the top, silence stretching between them. Sansa didn't even think she could make small talk if she tried.

"It's perfectly safe," Stannis said, interrupting the quiet and she looked at him.

Despite the past half an hour in which her world had been completely upended, he looked utterly put together. He was in the same suit, of course, that he'd been wearing at dinner, and there was only the faintest smell of smoke on him. Most times, it would annoy Sansa to have a man so clearly in control of her life, but she had willingly given herself over to him for the moment.

"Alright."

"You can trust me, Sansa."

She held his gaze, his hazel eyes penetrating hers and simply nodded. Her gut instinct told her Stannis would keep her safe, but he was Robert's brother.

Didn't family come first?

For all she knew, Robert might be waiting for them when the elevator stopped. Still, there was something in his tone, in the way that Stannis said the words that had Sansa wanting to believe him - something that made her think that if it came down to her or Robert, he might just choose her.

She said nothing to his statement about trust and saw his shoulders slump. She wished she could; she wanted to. But given what she'd just been through, trust was a hard commodity for her to come by. When the elevator doors opened, Stannis strode down a short, elegant hallway to the only door there.

"The entire top two floors are mine," was all he said. His security was state of the art, certainly something more complex than anything she had ever seen.

When the door to the penthouse opened, he glanced back at her.

"I'll go first."

It was as if he'd read her mind as she followed him inside.

Her breath caught, stunned by the beauty of the apartment. It was an open concept plan with the most incredible view of King's Landing. Before she could take in any of the details, Stannis coughed, and she turned to see him standing in his kitchen that was all stainless steel and marble countertops.

"I'd imagine you'd like to shower and ummm, change."

She looked down, and was aware, once again, but how unhinged her entire world had become. Her shoes, her favourite Christian Louboutin pumps were speckled with blood. More blood ran up her bare legs.

It struck her again that she had nothing: no house, no clothes, not even her beloved laptop.

Nothing but this man she was too fascinated with by far, and who was wholly unavailable to her.

"Yes, please," she murmured, almost undone by his kindness.

"Yes, well, umm, right this way. I'll put you in the guest bedroom." He eyed her and then frowned. "I'd lend you some of Shireen's clothing, but I'm afraid you're quite a bit taller than her."

"Shireen?"

Did this man have more than one woman in his life?

"My daughter."

Sansa blushed, feeling stupid. She knew that. Where was her mind?

"Sorry. I'm so sorry."

Stannis shook his head and gestured to the hallway.

"Follow me. I keep the guest room ready. I'll find something that will do for this evening for you to wear."

"Thank you."

Sansa followed Stannis down the hallway to the guest room, liking the cream colour of the room, and the impressive view. The bed was massive, and she thanked him again as he left her to shower in the adjoining bathroom.

She peeled off her soiled dress, stepping out of the ruined shoes and let it all drop to the floor of the bathroom. She stepped into the shower, needing to be clean, unable even to notice the wealth that surrounded her.

Sansa scrubbed herself until her skin was raw and pink. She appreciated that the hot water never ran out, using the high-end products that had a slightly more masculine scent than she was used to. It was comforting, as she realized it must be what Stannis used himself. Finally, feeling waterlogged, she shut the shower off and wrapped herself in a towel.

When she went back into the bedroom, she found a pair of boxer briefs, a soft blue t-shirt with the words ARMY on it, and some grey sweatpants. Gratefully, she pulled on the clean clothing, once again struck by the masculine scent that belonged to Stannis. The clothing dwarfed her, but even so, she was grateful for the comfort it offered her, as she braided her wet hair and padded silently out of her temporary room to find Stannis.

She found him on the phone, standing by a large window that seemed to lead to a terrace. He’d changed into something more casual and she took a moment to drink in his form. He must have heard her, for he ended his call immediately. Those hazel eyes were on her, and Sansa tried not to squirm.

"Your … boyfriend," he began. "What is his name?"

"What?"

"The man you were with tonight. Does he need protection? Do you think they might go after him? Have you told him anything?"

Sansa stumbled, "' He's not my... I'm not... we aren't…"

Sansa sighed, frustrated at how inarticulate she sounded. "He is not my boyfriend."

For some reason, and Sansa wasn't quite sure why, but she sensed that this admission pleased Stannis. He seemed to let out a relieved breath and then resumed his scrutiny of her. He frowned as he was looking at her.

"I'm sorry about the clothing."

"It's fine." It was. She liked how warm his clothing was, that it smelled like him. It was comforting.

Sansa glanced around the penthouse, looking at the couch, feeling pure exhaustion steal over her.

"I've been an ass," he muttered and moved quickly to her side, gesturing for her to take a seat, which she gratefully sank into, tucking her long legs up underneath her, feeling that if she could somehow curl into herself, she might, if only for a moment, feel safe again.

"A drink?" Stannis asked.

"Yes, please."

Without asking what, his movements sleek and powerful, he moved to the bar and poured them both generous glasses of whiskey. Dalmore if she wasn’t mistaken, which was as impressive as the man, the home, the entire set up she found herself in. She wondered how many other women had been treated to his hospitality.

"May I join you?"

Sansa sipped her scotch, loving the burn it made down her throat and gestured to the seat next to her.

"We need to talk, Sansa."

"I know."

Even with everything he had done for her, Sansa felt reluctant to share more. It felt awkward; these feelings she seemed to have for this man, the way he watched her, the heat that seemed to crackle between them. And yet she knew that he was a taken man, and she was not a woman who cheated. Or one who stole someone else's man. Not even if the other woman was a shrew.

"I'm sorry for ruining your evening," she offered up, hoping he could forgive her. He must be regretting taking her father's call when he could be entertaining Dany Drogo right now. The way the woman slithered all over him, his evening surely would have been more entertaining with the silver-haired singer.

His face, his entire face, frowned.

"What on earth do you mean? I was practically home when your father got ahold of me."

"But, at the restaurant, you were with…"

"A client.” He finished the sentence for her. “And a particularly unpleasant one at that. I must apologize for her behaviour, Sansa."

_A client! Dany was a client. Not his girlfriend. Not his lover. His client._

Like… her.

She felt the brief joy at that knowledge fade as she realized she was a client as well.

"No. Stop, Sansa." His voice was commanding and she obeyed instantly. 

She turned to face him, wondering what he thought he saw in her face, what he must imagine she was thinking. It was almost like he could read her like a book. He reached out a hand, as if to touch her, and then withdrew it. Even though he never touched her, her body ached for what it was missing, what Stannis might be able to give her.

 _How can there be such an attraction between them_? Sansa wondered, intrigued despite herself.

"She is nothing like you. I am here because when your father called me, I swear, my heart almost stopped Sansa. I could only pray that I got to you in time. Please, I need you to believe that." As their eyes met, she held his penetrating gaze.

One wrong move and Sansa knew her life might be forfeit. Now a man she barely knew before tonight, a man she had spoken to perhaps less than half a dozen times in her entire life, was asking her to trust him, to place her life in his hands.

Sansa knew that if she chose wrong, if she trusted him and he proved to be as bad, or even worse than Robert, then this could all end very badly for her.

But she was helpless to say no. It was as if some invisible thread connected them, and something had drawn her to him since that first meeting a month ago in the North.

She truly had no reason to trust Stannis Baratheon.

Except she did. Already. She had been unable to get him out of her mind for four solid weeks.

Fate it seemed, had intervened, to bring them together again, in the most specular circumstances.

"Sansa, will you let me help you?"

The tension between them was palpable, something she swore she could almost reach out and touch if she so wished. But her grip was too tight on the expensive crystal glass she was holding to touch him, so she took a fortifying sip of amber liquor to give herself a dose of courage.

Boldly, Sansa jutted out her chin, sealing her fate, and his, together.

"Yes."

With that single word, Stannis gave her a short, relived nod.

"Then let us begin."

* * *

_ Stannis  _

He could hardly believe it when she said yes! That she would allow him to do what he did best and protect her.

From the moment they were in his vehicle, racing away from her home, his mind had been sorting and rejecting possibilities of who she had angered to bring such violence down on her head.

More, Stannis knew the moment she uttered Robert's name that any loyalty he felt to his brother was gone. If it came down to Robert or Sansa, she would win every single time.

While Stannis had never been able to say no to Robert, he wasn't blind to the man's fault.

He drank too much.

Fucked too much.

And he made promises that he couldn't always keep, often to the wrong people.

In the past, Robert’s father in law, the mighty Tywin Lannister had been there to bail Robert out. But Stannis suspected something more was afoot. He'd poked into Tywin years ago, unsettled by the man and his cold, green eyes.

What he'd found was a man that hid his secrets well, and had built a legitimate business empire in Westeros, to become the man that owned every single casino in Westeros. If someone was gambling, they were doing it at a place owned by the Great Lion.

Even though Sansa said she trusted him, Stannis sensed her hesitation. To bridge that gap, he offered what he'd learned about Tywin.

"When Robert became involved with Cersei, nearly thirty years ago I had my suspicions of the man," he told her, her blue eyes looking much too large against her pale face. Robert, twenty-four, had been enamoured with the twenty-two year old Cersei, the two of them pregnant within months of dating and a shotgun wedding followed. It had been quite the coup, for Robert to marry the Great Lion’s only daughter. 

Stannis let out a heavy sigh and settled into the sofa.

"I wish I could say I found something, Sansa, but the truth is that I did not. While I do not doubt that money has exchanged hands over the years to gain Tywin what he wants, as far as him being into anything illegal, I couldn't find it. And I'm good. Very, very good." It wasn't ego talking; it was the truth.

There was a spark of interest in her eyes, as Sansa leaned forward, suddenly engaged in this conversation. 

"That tracks with what I've found. Balon Greyjoy and Roose Bolton both run casinos for Tywin. But when I dug around in Lannister Corp, I found nothing that I could tie to him that was illegal."

She shrugged and drank some more. Stannis watched her mouth take a sip, and for a moment he was lost in the image of those lips wrapped around him, until he shook himself, angry that her beauty had once again distracted him from her story.

"There were rumours, of course, when he first took over the business. His father had all but run their one flagship casino into the ground in Lannisport. Tywin took over at nineteen, and within three years, it was the most profitable one in the West. He's rumoured to have destroyed both Reyne and Tarbeck by any means necessary when they rebelled against his takeover of their casinos, but again, nothing could ever be proven. From there, it seems that there were several, let's say, _advantageous_ laws passed in different regions that helped Tywin expand his empire. Aerys and Rhaegar Targaryen seemed particularly willing to allow him to expand beyond the West until here we are today, a man with more money and power than any one person should have."

Stannis grunted.

"Don't forget my father. The three of them were thick as thieves, Sansa. Tywin, Aerys and Steffon."

The three of them had all but ruled Westeros back in the day if the stories Stannis had heard were true. There had been a falling out, after his father had died, between Aerys and Tywin, although no one ever knew what that was.

She flipped her braid and huffed out an impatient sigh. "But that's old news. For years Tywin has been clean. He donates to his select charities, pays his taxes. There isn't a whiff around him about corruption these days. Only old rumours."

They were quiet for a time.

"His biggest issue is his heir. Jaime."

Stannis felt his lip curl. Jaime Lannister had always been arrogant and flashy, disdainful of Robert's marriage to his beautiful twin sister and acting like she was above marrying a Baratheon. Until six years ago, at forty-two, when he'd abruptly quit working for his father and went into law enforcement. Now Jaime, forty-eight, seemed to have nothing to do with the Lannister family business. 

As if connecting the dots, Stannis looked at Sansa.

"That's why you don't trust the cops."

She shrugged. "I know that they can't all be dirty. But I couldn't take the chance. Jaime is Cersei's sister, and Cersei is married to Robert. And it was Robert that I saw in a heated discussion with Roose and Balon. It all seems like too much of a coincidence if you ask me."

Stannis said nothing for a time, their minds both at work.

"He wasn't always like what he is."

She turned to look at him and gave him her full attention.

"Robert. I mean, he's always been brutish and a bit of a buffoon. But not evil, Sansa. Not truly."

Boldly she looked him in the eye. "I have to know if it came down to it, who you would choose Stannis? I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I cannot risk my safety, or my life, if you are unwilling to admit that he might be involved."

He felt his mouth settle into a frown.

"I'm not, Sansa. Your safety is my priority. Just… we don't know. And he wasn't always so…"

"Drunk? Willing to screw anything in a skirt? Say anything to have a vote?"

Her cutting remarks were nothing less than the truth and Stannis sighed.

His glass was empty, and it was late. They needed sleep. They could regroup tomorrow. He rose, his powerful frame graceful as he took her drink.

"We can discuss this more tomorrow. I've permanently taken care of your phone. Currently no one knows you are here. I know you most likely want to tell your family," he said, seeing her mouth open to protest, but he shook his head. "For now, you can't tell anyone."

He had her safe and the fewer people who knew where she was, the better he could protect her.

She snorted and rose. "My sister is relentless. Her fiancé is some hacker. If they don't know where I am now, they will soon enough, I'm sure. Better I tell them."

"What is his name?" This was a complication Stannis had not anticipated.

"Jaqen."

Stannis's mouth dropped open.

Jaqen was a rumour, a myth in the circles where Stannis used to operate. When he'd been in military intelligence, they'd tried to get him on their side more than once, but he was a ghost. He was a man that could hack any system, bypass any code, get himself into any program. No one could hide from him, and no one knew who he was. Thankfully, the work he did was for the greater good, so it had never been much of a problem.

But still. It made Stannis uneasy that they'd never been able to find the man.

Now Sansa was saying her sister was engaged to a man that went by the same name? A man Stannis had tried to find for years?

She shrugged as she walked by him; mistaking his silence for disapproval and not disbelief.

"My sister loves me, and she's stubborn as hell. And she can keep a secret. Better we tell her, lest I incur her wrath."

There was affection there, and love. Stannis envied Sansa, and her apparent close relationship with her sibling.

"In the morning then. I've touched base with your father, and he is aware you are safe. He has also promised not to tell anyone until we understand more."

She nodded and suddenly appeared fatigued. Sansa looked alone, swimming in his clothing that was too big for her. She'd lost her entire home tonight, and while his cock had hardened the moment he'd seen her emerge from the bedroom, he knew she'd most likely not welcome his advances.

Even though that hulk of a man she'd been with earlier was not her boyfriend, she was vulnerable. Stannis had practically leapt for joy when hearing that, and that was not a reaction he was used to having. He held at the doorway to the guest bedroom, pausing as she turned back to look at him. He’d not invade her space without a direct invitation.

"Thank you."

Stannis nodded. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything."

"I won't."

Gods, he loved her fire. Even in the face of such overwhelming loss, she was rallying, finding that spark he'd seen in the North. He gave her a small smile.

"Fair enough, Sansa. We'll formulate a plan in the morning."

The door closed softly on him, and he took that as his cue that she wanted her privacy.

Stannis never had women in his penthouse, so it was odd for him to think of sharing space with her. Not bad, just different. Hurriedly he went to his kitchen, thankful the housekeeper had done the shopping, and his pantry and fridge were fully stocked. He didn't mind cooking for himself and had done so often enough when Shireen lived with him.

He picked up their glasses and set them in the sink, then added soap, washing them. He might be among the wealthiest men in Westeros, but he wasn't so far above doing a dish or two.

With the penthouse tidy again, he finally allowed himself a moment to process what had happened tonight. He'd stayed alive by learning how to read people, and Sansa hadn't been lying when she'd shared what she knew tonight. She hadn't held anything back, that he could tell. He wondered exactly what Bolton and Greyjoy were planning to make such a bold move. It wasn't anything like what Tywin Lannister would have done to get rid of a problem. This was almost … sloppy, Stannis decided as he dove into the lives of the two men that had threatened Sansa.

Forty minutes later, frustrated he'd found nothing more than what she already knew, his phone chimed.

It was Davos, and he'd completed the task Stannis had sent him. When his most loyal man entered, he had several bags from a well-known discount retail store.

"Walmart?" Stannis said, incredulous.

Davos grunted. "It's 2 am, Stannis. This was the only place open, and it's nondescript. If what you're telling me is true, she's going to need something with a bit less flash."

Stannis grunted as he dumped the bags. Cheap t-shirts, some tank tops, a blouse, two sweatshirts, a pair of cargo pants, two pairs of jeans, some converse sneakers, socks, a utilitarian sports bra that offended every sensibility Stannis had and a selection of cotton underwear.

Gods, each time he'd seen Sansa, she'd been in haute couture. He glanced at the shoes and dress he'd gathered from her room, the distinctive red soles of the shoes meaning that those stilettos cost more than the entire bunch of clothes he was looking at. He reached down and picked up the black dress and saw the YSL label.

"Christ," he muttered. He wanted her in clothes that were elegant and sexy, with lingerie that spoke to his preferences. Not this… crap.

"Stannis, they blew up her house," Davos said. "Have you thought of your plan beyond tonight?"

"No."

"And if Robert is involved?"

Stannis shook his head. "It's her, Davos. Always her."

To his credit, his second in command said nothing, he just gave him a small smile and took his leave.

That night, as he finally settled into bed, he thought about the woman down the hall. It felt right having her here, which he decided not to question. But he hated the circumstances that had brought her here. Then, he forced his eyes to close, knowing he needed to be at his best to keep her safe to keep her alive. He’d just found her and no one would take her from him.

* * *

It was the moan that woke him, and he was down the hall immediately. She'd shut the door on him earlier, but as he paused and listened, the whimper almost brought him to his knees. She could yell at him if he overstepped. He opened the door and saw her thrashing about, wearing only his old ARMY t-shirt and the boxer-briefs he'd leant her. Her long, lean legs had kicked off the covers, and she appeared to be caught in the grips of a nightmare.

He was at her side in an instant, laying a hand on her shoulder, wondering if she'd wake at his touch alone. When she moaned again, it tore at him, so he shook her gently and whispered, "Sansa."

She shot awake, gasping for air, her lengthy hair a wild tangle, having come loose from the braid, her eyes unfocused.

"What? Where am I…" Since he was watching her, he saw the moment it all came rushing back and her beautiful face crumpled, the grief rushing up and consuming her.

Not even stopping to think, Stannis was in the bed in an instant, drawing her into his arms. She clung to him, her body wracked with sobs as he rocked her. He had no idea how long they stayed like that until eventually, she quieted. Unsure what to do, he was about to clear his throat when she spoke.

"Can you stay with me?"

Stannis stilled.

"Yes," he said, voice taut. "Yes, Sansa. I can stay."

He felt her relax against him, and her trust in him humbled him. They shifted so that he could pull the covers up, with Sansa still in his arms.

"Is this alright?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Her warm breath was on his neck, and despite the horror that she'd been through, his body rejoiced at finally having her here, in his home, in his arms, in his life and his bed.

For now, it was enough. She was safe. She was his. He'd been given a chance with her, and he didn't mean to waste a single moment that he had been given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> An unexpected visitor forces Stannis to take drastic measures, and some lovely banter, snark and UST between our main pair!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Next Morning

* * *

_The Penthouse _

* * *

_ Stannis  _

Stannis woke at first light, which was his custom. He'd been in the military too long and trained his body to operate on only four or five hours of sleep on most nights. It allowed him to be the most productive, working while others slept. He usually started his day with a gruelling exercise routine, meant to keep his body in prime shape.

At forty-six, he knew he needed to work almost twice as hard as he did when he was younger to ensure he was the best shape to defend his clients. He couldn’t allow to let his reflexes lapse; not when it meant the difference between someone living or dying.

Most mornings, he never even stopped to think about his routine, merely rolling out of bed and getting on with it. He welcomed what the workout did, how it cleared his mind, pushed his body, reset him.

Today, he woke with Sansa's lush ass pressed against his rock hard cock, his hand possessively on her waist and his nose buried in her glorious mane of hair.

He wanted to groan, to grind himself into her body, to take her. For one brief moment, he imagined his hand fisting her hair as she opened those pretty lips for him and wet his cock with her tongue before he tunnelled into her mouth. She'd be on her knees, looking up at him, lust and trust and perhaps something more there in her bright blue eyes. Best of all she'd be right there with him as he commanded her to suck him off and swallow him down. She’d respond to his command as if she’d been made for just him, her submissive nature recognizing his dominant one.

It was only his ruthless and legendary discipline that allowed Stannis to roll away from her and leave the room carefully without waking her. She was a woman in a vulnerable position, entirely dependent upon him right now. She had nothing: no home, no clothing, not even her laptop.

And due to the nature of the threat, she was still in danger, Stannis knew.

As he pounded away at the treadmill, a light sweat on his body, Stannis would not deny that he wanted her. He ached to bury himself deep inside her. Mouth, hands, breasts, pussy - whatever she wanted to give, he would take. And take. Until she screamed his name, begged him for release, turned to him to provide her with the pleasure he knew he could.

She would see that he was the only man for her, the only one that could give her what she needed, what she craved. He'd find every desire, every fantasy she had and make them come true. They’d belong to one another as he never had never belonged to someone before - wholeheartedly. 

But he couldn't. And it threatened to undo him, knowing that she was here, in his home and under his protection, and he could not make a move on her – that he couldn’t act on this desire that was so clearly between them.

It would be unprofessional and worse a violation of her tentative trust.

She was in danger and needed someone to trust, someone to keep her safe. He was determined to be that man. The last thing he needed was for her to leave his protection because he’d pressed her into something she didn’t want.

He switched to free weights, working his arms until they burned, wishing the circumstances were different.

Ned Stark trusted him with his daughter, with her safety and her life, and muddying the waters by giving into the palpable sexual tension that hummed between them wouldn't do either of them any good.

Regretfully, as Stannis dropped into a series of squats, burpees and push-ups, he reminded himself that Sansa Stark remained firmly off-limits.

An hour later, Stannis was showered, dressed in a suit, although he'd left his jacket off and had his sleeves rolled up. He was standing in his kitchen, debating what Sansa might want for breakfast when she wandered in.

Her hair was wild, a brilliant tangle of red down her back, and she was wearing only his AMRY shirt and his boxers, leaving miles of long, creamy legs on display.

His heart raced, and he bit back the groan that almost broke free from his mouth, while she gave him a tentative smile.

"Hi."

"Hello."

 _Fuck, did he have to sound so harsh?_ He made a gesture to the gadgets that occupied the counter.

"Coffee? Tea? Juice?" He tried to smile, to soften what he knew was an intimidating face. He must have succeeded, because she nodded shyly, hopping up onto a chair at the island.

"Coffee, please."

He moved efficiently, selecting a dark roast, his back to her. He had to get himself under control.

She was in danger. She was alone. She needed his skills, not his dick.

Seeing her here, in his kitchen, Stannis wanted to hoist her up onto the counter, spread her legs and eat her until she creamed all over his face, bathing him in her pussy juices, making her slick and wet so he could pound inside her. His cock bobbed, hard and weeping.

 _Fuck!_ He thought. He needed to get this under control now.

He turned back to her, coffee in hand and was struck by her beauty again. Her eyes were roaming his home, now with an unmitigated view of the downtown in the cool winter sunshine.

"It's beautiful," she murmured and took the coffee.

"Cream?"

"Yes, please."

When it was finally as she liked, he began to pull out ingredients for an omelette as she sipped at the brew.

Shireen had bought him a special pan, years ago when he'd burnt more than one breakfast for them, for his birthday. They'd spent a weekend and three dozen eggs, but by the time they'd been through the last of them, Stannis could make a half-decent omelette. It was their signature dish, and any time his daughter stayed with him, they laughed at the memory.

"You don't have to make me breakfast," Sansa protested, and he gave her a look, happy when she blushed a little.

"You're a guest."

"I'm a problem."

Their eyes locked.

"Stannis, we need to talk. I appreciate what you've done for me, everything you've done for me. It was above and beyond. But clearly, someone wants me dead, and by being here, I'm putting you in danger."

He snorted as he cracked eggs and whipped them expertly.

"Sansa, this is what I do."

"You rescue women who have had their houses blown up? Wow, I must have missed that article in the crime beat."

She had a fire in her eyes that had been missing yesterday, and it pleased Stannis to see it back. He reached for a knife, heating the pan and dicing the vegetables and cheese, all while her eyes followed his movements.

"I protect people, Sansa. It is what I do. And I am quite good at it." That wasn’t ego talking, just the truth.

"And Robert?" she asked, a defiant tilt to her chin.

Stannis put the knife down and looked her directly in the eyes. "If my brother is involved in any way, I will see that he is held accountable for his actions. You have my word."

While he could see she believed him, she wasn't quite ready to accept his help.

"Still, I can't afford you, Stannis. And I have no idea how long this might go on for."

He wanted to tell her that it didn't matter; that he wouldn't take her money. That she meant more than that to him. But that was ridiculous. She'd probably run screaming from his penthouse were he to say such things.

Instead, he tried a different tact.

"You have nowhere else to go. For now," he said, as she opened her mouth to protest, "Eat breakfast. Shower. Change. I had some clothes brought up for you."

He frowned as he thought of the cheap garments and then brushed it aside.

"Once you have done those things, we will discuss how we tell your family what has happened and formulate a plan."

She grumbled under her breath as she sipped her coffee, eyeing him as he slid the eggs into the warm pan and then turned to prepare a bagel for her.

"I normally eat yogurt. If I remember to eat," she said, when he'd plated their food. "This is lovely. Thank you."

Gods, even with her life in shambles, she was the perfect blend of sass and sweet. He was like a bee drawn to the perfect flower.

He sat next to her, wondering why he was torturing himself in such away. He should be putting as much distance between them as possible, but it was as if she drew him in and he was helpless to say no.

"You should eat breakfast. Most important meal of the day."

She nodded and tucked into her food.

 _Fuck,_ he cursed himself. Now he sounded like a father and one that was admonishing her. She was a grown woman. She didn't need him to tell her when she should eat.

He looked down at his own meal and sighed when he felt her hand on his arms. There was a smile on her lips, a light in her eyes, and he thought that perhaps he hadn't screwed up quite as badly as he thought.

"And I suppose you always eat?"

Because her lips were twitching, Stannis gave in. He shook his head and sipped his coffee. "No. Not always."

"Bit of a workaholic?"

Both Robert and Renly had mocked him relentlessly for his drive, and he'd always bristled under their combined attacks. But with Sansa, he sensed a kindred spirit more than an attack.

"Yes. You as well?"

She nodded, took a bite of omelette and moaned, which made his cock rage. He'd already masturbated once to the image of fucking her in his bed, hands tied behind her back, on her knees, his to do whatever he wanted with. Now that moan…. Gods. He’d never wanted a woman like he wanted her.

"This is so good," she said, now eating with enthusiasm, her appetite returning and healthy. Watching that mouth, that luscious mouth work over her fork, Stannis fisted his hand and tried to keep it together.

"I do alright in the kitchen," he told her, and she shot him a grin.

"I'm awful. No time. There is always a story and take out is so handy. I swear, my favourite Thai and Vietnamese place know my order like clockwork."

"Yes, well, with Shireen, I had to learn. Being a single father.”

And there he was, introducing his daughter. Because what woman wouldn't love to hear about his grown daughter that was only four years younger than her?

If he'd ever had any chance of having Sansa, this breakfast was fast assuring him that he'd been a fool even to consider it. Their age difference alone made this impossible. She was a young woman herself, just starting her life. He was a man approaching fifty, clearly having a mid-life crisis. And a single dad at that. He was utter crap at this.

"Where is she going to school?" Sansa appeared interested, sitting back, eyes focused on him. Those long legs taunted him and he forced himself to focus on answering her. Not acting like a man that couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

"The Stormlands, at Stonehelm."

Sansa drank her juice and nodded. "It's a great school. What is she taking?"

For a moment, a brief moment, Stannis wondered if she were genuinely interested, or if she, like all others, was merely feigning interest in his life, making polite conversation for the sake of filling the space between them.

But her body language was open and trusting, and Stannis relaxed. He loved to speak about Shireen, and he was proud of her. He so rarely had a chance to brag about her, and to someone he’d think would see her accomplishments for what they were.

"Pre-med. She hopes to be accepted to medical school next fall. She is in her final year of undergraduate studies."

"Wow. Smart girl. You must be so proud of her."

He was, and Stannis straightened his spine.

"I am. She's worked extremely hard to be where she is, and I hope she gets accepted." He frowned. "Of course, that means she has sent out her applications all over Westeros. And even Essos." He hated to think of her so far away, but he’d never stand in the way of her dreams.

A hand on his arm, had Stannis turning to Sansa. "That must be hard. But it must feel good, right? To know you've raised a child that is going to do something so good in this world. I'd imagine that's every parents' dream."

_How did this woman seem to understand parts of him that Stannis had never shared with anyone else?_

He coughed and nodded, noting she'd finished her plate.

"It is. I am extremely proud of her."

Their eyes locked, and there was something that passed between them, some current that he could almost touch.

Sansa was open, trusting, her eyes and face warm and inviting.

Before he could do something idiotic, like kiss her, he rose and grabbed their plates, severing that tentative connection. He didn't miss the brief look of confusion and hurt that flickered across her gorgeous face, and he wondered if he were more of an idiot to push her away or drag her into his arms and keep her there.

"I'll show you the clothing. I'm sorry it's not better," he said, striding towards the couch and picking up the bags. He held them out to her, seeing her look at him curiously. He thought she might balk at the clear discount store brand, but if anything she appeared grateful. Just one more check in the plus column; not a high maintenance woman, despite the family from which she came.

"Thank you. I'll shower and meet you back here."

He gave her a curt nod and went to go and do the dishes, mentally preparing himself to be around her today and not make a fool of himself. It had been too close over breakfast.

Lost in his thoughts, he missed when she moved closer to him until suddenly she was pressing her lips against his cheek.

"Thank you, Stannis. For everything."

Too stunned to do anything, he stood there and watched her walk away, a satisfied look on her face, a swing in her hips and a flip of her hair.

It was at that moment that Stannis knew he was doomed. He might rule his life, might be a dom in the bedroom, might even be one of the most lethal men in Westeros.

But Sansa Stark fucking owned him, and he knew before this entire ordeal was over, his life would be thoroughly turned upside down because of her.

Funnily enough, he was finding it hard to care, knowing his well-orchestrated life was about to become complicated. Instead, touched his cheek where her lips had just been and wondered if even he had enough will to withstand the force that was one, Sansa Stark.

* * *

_ Sansa  _

Sansa bit her lip and suppressed her grin as she sashayed down the hallway towards her temporary bedroom. She hadn't missed the flare of heat, or desire, or want in Stannis's eyes as they'd shared breakfast. She hadn't been quite as asleep as he seemed to believe when they'd woken earlier. But she'd laid still, waiting to see if he might make a move.

Her ass had been pressed up against a very impressive, very hard cock, and for a moment, Sansa had wondered if that hand on her hip would curl around to the front of her, diving into the borrowed underwear she wore, to stroke and pet her. He’d have found her wet and willing.

Gods! The thought of his hands finally on her had made Sansa have to bite her lip to prevent herself from moaning.

Unfortunately, after a sniff of her hair and a slight groan, she was sure Stannis hadn't even realized he'd released, he'd left her bed. She knew the man wanted her. But she suspected that he felt honour bound to not act on it.

Sansa's entire world was in disarray, and as she laid the clothing out on the bed, she wondered if she was an idiot even to allow herself to think about things such as attraction. Or about the most amount of sexual chemistry she'd ever had with a man when someone was obviously trying to kill her.

The thing was, the way her brain worked, she had to compartmentalize things. She could only deal with what was in front of her. Sansa was a problem solver, naturally curious and stubborn as could be. There was no way she wasn't going to investigate what she'd seen in the North.

She was scared, sure, but not too afraid that she'd let this go. She couldn't. She needed to see this through. She also wasn't stupid. She knew she had to find out who had tried to kill her if she ever wanted her life back. And in order to do that, she would need protection and a safe space to work.

There was no way she could afford Stannis. He provided Robert's security, she thought as she stripped out of his clothing.

She'd adored wearing his shirt she realized, now that the fuzzy cobwebs and crippling fear from last night were gone.

Even knowing that she needed to come up with a plan, a strategy of how to get her life back on track, Sansa let herself think of Stannis.

Every decision he had made had been with her best interests at heart. She could see the care he was taking with her - from finding her something to wear, answering her questions, making her food and even the physical comfort that had come in the middle of the night when she'd been in the throes of a nightmare.

The spark between them was undeniable, and she wondered why he was holding back. She had been more than open and waiting for him to kiss her at the kitchen island.

As she stood under the hot spray, thinking of Stannis, her nipples beaded into hard peaks, and her fingers found her wet center. Knowing she needed a release, a distraction of the mess of her life, Sansa slipped two fingers inside herself as she imagined what might have happened had Stannis decided to have her for breakfast instead of the omelette he made.

When she came, it was his name she cried out, and she briefly wondered what he might think of that. Would he like to know that she got off thinking about him fucking her?

After she'd finished washing her hair, she dried herself and slipped into the newly purchased clothing. The t-shirt was a little tight, but the pants fit perfectly. She adored the sneakers, and even though she'd never shopped at Wal Mart before, it wasn't the worst thing she’d ever worn.

Knowing she'd have to braid her hair again, she set to work before tidying up. She had no idea how long she'd be here; but she knew she couldn't impose of Stannis and his hospitality forever. Not even if he insisted.

Perhaps, even if he wasn't dating Dany, he wasn't that interested in her. Maybe she was the only one who felt that heat between them. Then she shook her head. She might have the worst luck when it came to men, but she knew what she had seen in his eyes. And it wasn't disinterest. If anything, it was almost too big to put into words.

With that in mind, and knowing she drove him a bit wild, Sansa confidently went back into the central part of the penthouse to find Stannis. She had to give him credit; the man had incredible taste. She'd been here less than twelve hours, and she had already fallen in love with his home.

"Ahhhh, there you are," he said, emerging from the living room. He gestured towards another hallway. "My office is down here. I think it best if we Facetime your family. If they can see you, that would go a long way in reassuring them."

Before he opened the door, he hesitated. When he turned to her, his face was so serious.

"This is my personal office Sana. No one other than my most trusted man and Shireen have been inside this room. Not even Robert. But I want you to trust me."

Sansa wondered if he had any idea how much he was letting her in already. He coughed slightly, and then a small blush stained his cheeks and gods, did she want to kiss him. They were standing so impossibly close to one another, that she could feel how warm his breath was.

"I have Davos out buying you a laptop and a phone. I know you'll need them to work. He should be here shortly. In the meantime, let's reassure your family, Sansa."

He laid his hand across her back and guided her inside his inner sanctum, and Sansa was deeply touched in how far this man was willing to go to earn her trust.

When she was seated in front of the massive monitor, Stannis called Arya's number. Her sister immediately accepted the call, her worried face filling the big screen, as he stepped back and to the edge of the room, giving her space, if not privacy.

"Sansa! Oh my god, I've been worried sick about you," Arya cried.

"I told you she was safe, darling," Jaq's lilting voice came from off-screen. "In fact, I told you just where she was. With the only man in Westeros that is capable of protecting her."

"Well, I hadn't heard from her, had I?"

A hand reached out and cupped Arya's cheek. "You are right, darling. Have your chat."

Sansa knew that Jaq had left the room to give them privacy, although it hardly mattered. It seemed the man was precisely what Sansa had suspected - a very skilled hacker.

"Tell me everything, San," Arya demanded. The words came out slowly at first and then faster and faster until Sansa was telling her sister and Stannis all the creepy little threats and weird things that had been happening to her over the past month.

Stannis had moved ever closer, a scowl on his face.

As if he couldn't help himself, he leaned over the desk, and Sansa forgot about Arya.

"A month? This has been going on for a month, Sansa?" His voice was low and deadly, and Sansa sensed that he was upset.

"Yes. If it's the same people, I told my editor, and I mentioned it to my Dad. But it was little things, Stannis. How was I to know they'd escalate to dead cats and arson?"

She wouldn't allow him to make her feel like she was an idiot. She'd been safe and smart. She'd told people. There was nothing to think that what had happened last night was imminent.

"Christ," he said, turning away from her and blowing out a frustrated breath.

Arya's chuckle dragged Sansa's eyes back to her sister.

"Yeah, you'd better go deal with that. Jaq says Stannis is solid. He also says that we can help. So tell us what you need, San."

"I can't."

Arya's face went mulish.

"Not yet, Arry. Give me a bit of time."

"Do you need money?"

Sansa shook her head. She had her savings, which while not Lannister or Baratheon impressive, were nothing to sneeze at.

"I'm good." The Stark sisters ended their call with a promise to keep in touch and keep Sansa’s whereabouts a secret for now.

Sansa glanced up to see Stannis staring at her, his eyes almost unreadable. But somehow, Sansa knew he was both frustrated and angry that she hadn't come to him sooner.

"I didn't know you. Not really, Stannis," she said, jutting her chin out. "So don't get all high and mighty with me. I had no idea it would escalate this quickly."

"Fuck, Sansa, it's not that," he muttered, and she swore if he had hair, he'd be tearing it out.

She watched him pace the room before he turned back to her.

He'd reigned his emotions in, and she could see that instead of a man reacting honestly to what she'd been through, she was seeing the professional bodyguard again. His face looked almost cold, and there was no great well of emotion. It was gone.

"You're right, Sansa. You did what you thought was right. Let's phone your father."

Oddly enough, she felt lonelier than ever. She'd been looking forward to sparring with Stannis, to going toe to toe with him, to trying to prove her point.

She liked that this very controlled man always seemed to be just a bit out of control around her—first in the bed, then the kitchen table, and now, here, on this call. She liked that he showed emotion around her. Now that man was gone and she missed him.

Sansa wondered what type of discipline it took to push down all those feelings, as he cued up her father.

Ned was thankfully alone, and Sansa swore he'd aged ten years overnight. His face had deep, ragged lines, and he looked like he'd barely slept. For this call, Stannis hovered beside her, assuring Ned he'd keep her safe for as long as needed.

"Guys, I'm right here," Sansa said, looking between the two of them.

"And you are my only priority right now, Sansa."

Their eyes locked, and she knew that whether she 'agreed' or not, Stannis would be by her side until this entire mess was solved.

"Princess, please. For me," Ned said, and Sansa turned back to look at her father. "It's either that or come home, Sansa."

She knew that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"No, Daddy. I don't want to come home."

"Then please, it has to be Stannis, Sansa. There is no one else that I trust with your life than him."

"Alright, Dad."

"Good. For now, I won't say much to the family. I'll tell them there was an incident, and that you are in protective custody. I can coordinate all the insurance and such if you need me too."

"Good," Stannis said, taking control of the conversation. "Keep the details vague, Ned. This was a professional attempt on her life. We are still not sure who all is involved."

"What do we know so far?"

Stannis and Sansa exchanged a look and then she cleared her throat. "Dad, let's just keep it between Stannis and me."

Ned frowned, and Sansa could tell he wasn't happy, but he relented.

"For now. I want updates. I need to know you are safe, Sansa."

"We will, Ned,” Stannis was reassuring her father as his phone chimed and his brow furrowed.

"We have to go," he said, some urgency in his voice. They closed the window to the call, and Stannis had his hand around her elbow, guiding her out of his office.

"Stannis, what is it?"

His mouth turned down in a grimace. "It is Robert. He is here."

"Here?" Sansa cried, her heart thumping.

Until this point, she'd never really believed her father's best friend might seriously put her in danger. But now? What was he doing here? Sansa got the impression that very few people ever came to Stannis’s house. Now Robert showed up after her home was destroyed?

They were walking quickly down the main hallway into the master bedroom. Sansa barely had a chance to examine it, when Stannis pulled back a wall, a _WALL_ , and revealed a solid metal door behind the fake bookcase.

"My panic room," he said, voice clipped. Some panel thingy scanned his eye and then opened. He walked inside with her and flicked on some switches. Too stunned to say much, she watched as he opened the monitors so she could see the entire penthouse on the screens.

"Sound is there so that you can hear."

He opened a drawer and pulled out a handgun and a phone, holding both up.

"I know you can use this," he said, handing her a phone. "Untraceable. If you see anything out there with Robert that you don't like, you phone your father. Or Davos. His number is the first one on that phone. You can trust him.”

She nodded, clutching at the small mobile device. She didn’t know who to trust right now.

"Now, a handgun. Do you know how to use it?"

Sansa nodded. She'd learned about guns from a young age, living in the North. Her family, well, her brothers and father hunted and Ned had insisted they learn. When she'd moved to King's Landing, he'd taught her how to fire, clean, store and hold a handgun.

Stannis placed it in her other palm. "If anyone but me comes through that door, you shoot."

She nodded, feeling numb.

He gripped her shoulders, and their eyes locked. "Sansa, words. Time is running out, and I need to know you can take care of yourself if it comes down to that."

"Yes.. yes," she stuttered and nodded. "Yes, I can shoot anyone who comes through that door but you."

She didn't shudder, even though she wanted to. Fear gripped her. For a moment, she thought Stannis might kiss her, then the elevator dinged, and he was gone, closing the heavy metal door behind her and locking her in his safe room.

Sansa sank into the chair, gun in one hand, phone in the other, and watched as Stannis opened his door, to welcome his brother into his house. She couldn't help but wonder if Robert was about to betray him, or if Stannis was going to betray her.

Then she watched as Robert's face broke out into a grin, and Stannis gripped his brother tightly and as Robert clapped him on the back.

Sansa’s heart thumped and she hoped this wasn’t what it looked like; that Stannis had sold her out, told Robert that he had her.

"I always knew I could count on you, Stannis. No matter how much you disapprove of me, or my mistakes, family is everything to you."

Stannis smiled, and his next words chilled her blood.

"It is, Robert. And I would do whatever is necessary to protect those that are my family."

Family.

 _It always came down to family_ , Sansa thought, her mind racing. It didn't matter.

Lion.

Stag.

Wolf.

Rose.

Falcon.

The great families of Westeros always protected each other.

Here, family always came first.

It was why being a reporter was so hard in a country were old alliances and grudges ran deep.

It didn't matter what she'd seen in Stannis’s eyes earlier, how much he might have wanted her.

Robert was his family, and she was not.

Now all she could do was watch this horror unfold, wondering how she had once again been so wrong about a man she was developing feelings for.

Only this time, instead of a bad second date, she might lose her life.

She'd trusted, and she'd gambled, and she'd lost.

She only hoped that her father would never stop looking into what happened to her. That he would dig and dig until he knew that the Baratheon's were rotten to the core, including, her shattered heart thought, Stannis himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert's visit and plans are made

* * *

_ S _ _tannis _

"Robert, to what do I owe this surprise visit?" Stannis asked.

Outwardly, he knew he appeared calm, perhaps even slightly cold.

Inside he was seething.

Robert showing up had shattered the tentative trust that Sansa had started to place in him. Stannis could only hope that she listened to his conversation and didn't shoot him on sight when he finally got Robert out of his house and away from Sansa. He had no idea what his brother was doing here, but he needed him gone as soon as possible.

Robert was wandering around his house, touching things. Stannis ground his teeth together.

"The new security detail, of course. After that unfortunate incident up North, these new agents are pros Stannis. I owe you. They don't ask any questions, and even Cersei has shut up about where I spend my time."

Relief coursed through Stannis. He'd all but forgotten he'd assigned new men to Stannis's detail; they were from the Stormlands and particularly loyal to their family. Plus, they all reported back to Stannis, so he knew precisely how many women and how much money Robert had lost this month. It was appalling, and quite frankly, Stannis was shocked that Tywin hadn't stepped in to put a stop to it all.

Robert finally glanced around the penthouse, and Stannis was doubly glad he'd washed and put away the dishes while Sansa had showered, so it appeared utterly innocuous. Like he was the single, unattached man that he was.

"Things are good with you? Saw you on TV with Dany."

 _What the fuck was this_? Stannis thought. Now Robert wanted to talk about their… feelings?

Robert's mouth turned down at the mention of the Targ pop princess. Rhaegar and Lyanna had eloped right when Robert thought he had been making progress on courting Ned's only sister. Robert had never forgiven either Rhaegar or Lyanna for the wound to his pride. Lyanna had been twenty-one and it had caused quite the scandal in Westeros, when she’d run away with Rhaegar. Robert never let anyone forget it either.

"Things are well. She is a client, Robert. Nothing more."

"Good. That's good," he said, slapping at his fat thighs.

 _The man had let himself go to waste_ , Stannis thought with disgust. A few more years and they’d have to roll him to his coronation. Because somehow, despite how useless of a person his brother continued to be, people liked him. It baffled Stannis completely.

"Big-time for you, having someone like that. Bet she’s good for a poke every now.”

Robert winked, while Stannis bit back a sharp retort. His brother was appalling. 

“Bet it's worth putting up with that dragon bullshit to get a piece of that ass."

Stannis stiffened. He'd never even thought of having a 'poke' as Robert so crudely put it with Dany. Or any woman in a long time if he were honest. Except for Sansa. He’d had more fantasies of her than he’d had of any other women. In his entire life.

Robert must have seen his disgust on his face when he’d mentioned Dany, for he waved a meaty hand.

"Bah, Stanny. It's alright. Your secret is safe with me. Bet she likes some kinky shit, married to that foreigner.” Dany had married Drogo when she was twenty-two, only to end up widowed a year later. Stannis thought that some of her unhappiness came from losing her husband so quickly, but he honestly didn’t much care. The woman was a nightmare. 

Robert winked, and Stannis felt his guts churn.

_How was it possible that he was related to this buffoon?_

"Is that all?" Stannis couldn’t keep the sneer from his voice. The sooner Robert left, the better Stannis would feel. He felt embarrassed that Sansa had to listen to his brother speak of women in the way he had.

"Got another campaign thing, a few weeks from now. My kick-off event. Cersei's people have all the details. The whole family will be there. Including you and Shireen." He waved a finger at Stannis, fat as a sausage. "You won't get out of it this time. You and Shireen, Stannis. I’m serious.”

Stannis sighed and glanced towards to door. Thankfully, even Robert was not too dense to misread the not so subtle message.

As they walked to the door, Stannis cleared his throat.

"I won't be around for a little while. I have a client that I need to be out of King's Landing with. Davos will know how to get in touch with me."

”New client, eh?” Robert said winking at him. “Sure Stannis.”

Stannis said nothing, internally seething. 

Robert shook his head.

"You and your secrets, Stannis. One day, they'll bite you in the ass."

He chuckled at himself and then saw himself out.

 _If he had been part of planning the assassination of Sansa Stark, he hid it well_ , Stannis thought as he walked towards his bedroom. That entire conversation was vintage Robert Baratheon.

Entitled.

Arrogant.

Self-serving.

He barely opened the door to the panic room when Sansa came flying towards him. She'd put the gun down, thankfully, but her small little fist beat on his chest.

"Aghhhhh! I thought you were going to sell me out! When you hugged him! And then he was just here to thank you?"

She spun away, but not before Stannis caught the fear and hurt on her face, and what he was sure were tears.

He was slightly hurt that she would think that of him, but he knew she'd had her entire world upended that it was hard to blame her. He was having to fight so hard to earn her trust.

"Sansa," he said, trying to gentle his tone. He was feeling so frustrated with how everything seemed so much harder with Sansa than it did with any other woman.

He waited until she turned back to him, angrily wiping away tears.

How she could look so magnificent doing so baffled him, but she did.

He reached out and drew her close, needing her to understand just how far he'd go to protect her. He needed her to start to trust him.

"I gave you my word, Sansa. _My word_ ," he said, voice low and rough, his Stormlands accent deepening his voice. "You don't know me well enough to understand what a covenant this is to me. I am a man that holds my vows, my oaths if I may be so old fashion, in very high order. I strive never to break them. And certainly never to you.”

She nodded, her breath hitching.

She sobbed, and he pulled her close, the third time he'd had her in his arms in less than a day. It felt so right, and he didn't want to let her go. This woman was inside him, changing him, burrowing deep inside his psyche, into his fucking heart. He was beginning to suspect he needed her in his life, despite his objections.

"He's family, Stannis. Your family.” 

He wanted to retort that she was too; that she was his. Since his beloved mother had died, the only person that had been uniquely his was his daughter. Now there was Sansa.

"I made you a promise, Sansa. That is worth everything to me.”

He held his breath and looked into her eyes, hoping she understood how much his word meant to him. He didn’t give it often but when he did he would never go back on it. 

This was the moment. She had to place her trust in him; she had to believe him, or this would never work.

He needed her absolute faith that he would do anything to keep her safe. Anything.

Her hand came up and stroked his cheek.

"I believe you. I do, Stannis. Gods, I do."

He exhaled, resting his forehead against hers.

“Thank gods.”

She laughed.

Now he just had to convince her that it wasn't safe to stay in King's Landing and get her to agree to leave. With him.

Robert just showing up like he had underscored that staying here was no longer an option. They were too exposed. His security here was state of the art, and he could lock the building down. But as long as he was here, Robert would think him available. And that put her at risk.

Reluctantly Stannis stepped back from her and watched as she gave him a nod as if to say she was alright.

Then unable to help himself, overcome and needing to touch her, Stannis held out his hand.

The smile that bloomed on her face warmed him all the way through.

When she took his hand in hers, he could only squeeze it once, hard. If he lingered, they'd be naked on his bed, and he'd be balls deep in her.

Instead, he led her out of his bedroom, not even glancing at the bed California king bed with a few special 'features'.

They went back to the kitchen where she settled on the same stool where she'd sat earlier.

He flicked the kettle on, needing to do something with his hands or they would be all over her.

He got two cups and a teapot, measured the leaves precisely and turned back to her as the water boiled.

"We cannot stay here," he said without preamble and watched her frown.

"I can't leave. I have a story to chase down. If I leave now, they win. And I’ll never be safe.”

He grunted, hating that she would be putting herself in danger to do her job. The suborn tilt to her chin told Stannis that she would not back down. And gods, did he admire her for that. A woman of substance, and character, Stannis was beginning to believe they were well suited for one another, despite his professional reservations.

"I know. I do, Sansa. We are too far into this now to back down."

"We?" The hope and trust were there, and it pleased Stannis to see it.

He nodded. "We Sansa.”

The kettle whistled, forcing him to turn around. When he was back facing her, he saw her drumming her fingers on the counter. She gave him a look.

"So you know that I uhh, I listened to your conversation with Robert. I know it was private, but…" She shrugged and gave him a small smile. "Reporter. It's a habit."

His laugh sounded rusty, but it was there. "I'm glad. Your thoughts?”

She huffed out an impatient breath as he poured her tea, passing over cream and sugar. She added a single cube and stirred.

"If Robert had anything to do with what happened to me, or my house last night, I'll eat my shirt."

Since he'd come to the same conclusion as her, he said nothing, but he was pleased they were thinking along the same lines as him. Robert was an idiot, but he wasn’t that good of an actor.

"But, he's not clean, Stannis. He's dangerously reckless with his behaviours, especially for a man that wants to put himself up for re-election. And one who has his eye on becoming President."

Stannis grunted his agreement. Nothing she said wasn't something he hadn't already thought of. His brother was living a dangerous life right now; the confrontation in the North confirmed that.

The drumming of her fingers increased.

"Something is going on. Cersei is not going to let Robert ruin her chances to be the First Lady of Westeros. And neither would Tywin. Last night was sloppy, Stannis. That's what I can't get over."

Her brain was a thing of wonder, Stannis thought, more turned on by a woman than he’d ever been. Smart, sassy and slightly submissive. Fuck, he was screwed.

"Sloppy, and yet it was almost successful."

She paled but nodded and sipped at her tea.

Since she appeared to be able to take it how close she'd come to death, he added his thoughts.

"It was almost arrogant, Sansa." Her eyes locked on his.

"How do you mean?"

"Had they never put the cat there, you'd have walked into a bomb, Sansa. But whoever did this wanted you to be scared. They wanted the psychological effect, as much as they wanted your death." He paused. “Maybe even more. And that worries me. Because they don’t just want to kill you, they want you to suffer; to be scared.”

Stannis saw that his words affected her deeply. As they should. She’d gained the attention of someone he suspected was very twisted and very fixated on her.

He reached for her, unable to help himself.

Professionalism be damned. She was barely holding it together as he settled her against his strong chest.

He stroked her cheek.

"Sansa, listen to me. I can protect you. And I can give you a safe space, where we can dig deeper, chase down leads, figure this out. We will find out who did this. And we will bring them to justice.”

“Promise?”

Stannis didn’t even hesitate.

“I promise.”

"But."

She laid her hand over his, which was on her cheek.

"There is always a but, Stannis."

He smiled back at her. "There is a but. We need to be out of King's Landing. And we will need to become less... conspicuous."

She laughed, then, throwing her head back and giving him a look. "Uhmmmm, the bald head gives you away, Stannis."

He reared back, and gave her a mock hurt look, running a hand over his head.

"What? You don't approve." It was one area he’d never had any complaints. Women liked it.

Sansa winked at him.

"Oh, Stannis, I approve. I more than approve. But you're not exactly your average man. Between the muscles, the swagger and the suits, you stand out. You're too handsome, too… virile."

She blushed a little at that word.

He sputtered, wondering if that's how she truly saw him. He had no clue that any woman could describe him as handsome in the tone that Sansa had. She sounded almost as hungry for him as he was for her. Her eyes were dancing, and he knew she was telling the truth.

She thought him virile!

Gods was he ever. His dominant side was demanding that he drag her to him, kiss those bee-stung lips and make her his.

Not yet.

But soon.

"Besides, I doubt you even own jeans,” she kept talking and Stannis focused on her words and not that mouth. What he wanted to do to that mouth.

"I own jeans," he answered automatically. He thought about what he wore when he spent weekends in the Stormlands, hiking with Shireen. He could be causal. He could blend in.

”Hmmmm,” she said giving him a disbelieving hum.

"Cheeky girl," he murmured, unable to hide the pure want in his voice. 

Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath. "I can be."

 _Fucking hells_ , he thought, his control hanging by a thread. It was interrupted by the chime of his phone.

"What?" he snarled, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself down.

_Fuck, he wanted this woman._

It took him a moment to understand what Davos was telling him. Finally, he pinched his nose.

"We'll be waiting." When he hung up, Sansa gave him a rueful smile.

"We have the worst timing."

He wanted to snatch her up and take her to his house in the Stormlands. Now.

“We do.”

Davos would be here in a few minutes.

Stannis stepped back from Sansa to await his second in command. This was the first time that they'd be meeting, and Stannis realized how important this meeting suddenly was to him.

Davos was his closest friend and Sansa; well, she was...

Gods, he didn't want even to name it. Not yet. Not if there was the slightest possibility of …

"Stannis," came the deep burr of one Davos Seaworth, interrupting his thoughts again. 

"Kitchen," Sansa called, smiling at him. She was bright and cheery as Davos entered, loaded down with bags.

Before Stannis could help, Sansa was there, laughing and welcoming Davos to his home. She looked perfect there, as Davos flashed her a smile.

When the bags were down, Davos shook his head and looked at Sansa. "So you're the one those arseholes are after."

"Yup. That’s me.”

Davos shook his head, muttering about criminals and dickheads.

Sansa snickered at his mutterings, catching Stannis's eye. He muffed his own bark of laughter and guided his friend to a seat.

"Tell us what's on your mind, Davos."

There was a long-suffering sigh.

"She's not exactly hard on the eyes, Stannis."

Stannis kept his face sober, but the hangdog look on Davos' face threatened to make him smile. 

"One walk through town, one stop at a gas station, and she'd be remembered for miles,” Davos muttered, shaking his head.

The smile on Sansa's face vanished. "Wait; what?"

Davos gave Stannis an incredulous look.

"You haven't told her yet?"

"Told me what?" she said, her voice rising.

Stannis and Davos shared a look, and then Davos sighed. "It's your hair lass. Gods, it's a thing of beauty, but it's got to go."

The horrified look on her face sliced at Stannis's heart. He knew she wasn't a vain woman, but her hair was one of her most defining features.

And gods, the fantasies he'd had with that hair. Wrapped around his fist, his face buried in it, wrapped around his d…

"Stannis?" her voice cut through his musings. He saw her lip wobble and was by her side, pulling her into his embrace.

"Hush. Its temporary, Sansa. I promise. We'll bring in a professional."

She gave a shake of her head and blinked away the sheen of tears.

"Gods, I'm such a girl." She shook her head again and gave him a shaky smile. "Sorry."

"Don't. If I didn't think it was important, I wouldn't insist. Your hair is a thing of beauty.”

He wasn’t a man prone to giving compliments, but it was the truth. He loved her hair.

"Ok. I trust you."

That warm feeling was back. She trusted him!

"So, Jay Manuel. What's my model makeover?"

_What in seven hells was she talking about? Who the fuck was Jay Manual?_

"What colour am I going to?” Sansa asked at his confused look. 

"Blonde."

Her eyebrow arched and he wondered if she was thinking of Dany. Gods, he hated that woman.

"Blonde bombshell, huh."

He felt his cock twitch. That smart little mouth.

"Careful, Stanny," Sansa said, mimicking Dany's cutting voice. She ran her hands up and down his chest and batted her eyelashes at him.

His eyes narrowed, he grabbed her hands that were on him, and quick as lightning, he pulled her close, getting a peep out of her as she smashed up against his chest.

"Naughty girls get spanked, Sansa."

Let’s see how she responded to that. God did he want her naked and begging him for more.

"Yes, please," she whispered, her breath on his lips. His hands were holding hers, or else they’d be on that lush ass he’d felt earlier.

The pure desire in her eyes, the longing told Stannis everything he needed to know. This woman was meant for him and the image of her ass, pink from his hand.... 

Stannis growled at such a thought as she whimpered and pressed closer to him.

He was just about to kiss where when a cough from Davos had them both turning and looking at him.

If they didn't have bad timing, they'd have none at all.

They both gave a shaky laugh as they realized what this looked like.

"Come on, let her go, Stannis. I've got the stylist waiting."

"Now?" She said, her eyes flashing.

He traced her cheek.

"We have one day, Sansa. I want to be gone by evening. I have a few things to do to clear my schedule and leave some breadcrumbs of where we might be. I have no doubts they will be searching for you once the smoke clears.”

She nodded, and he went to take his leave. As much as he knew she’d be a stunning blond, it was going to affect him to see her change her distinctive looks because she needed to hide.

Before he was to the hallway, he heard his name called.

"Stannis?"

He turned back to face her.

"You're sure? That I can pull off being a blonde?"

"Oh yes, I'm very, very sure, Sansa," he said, infusing his voice with heat. Even as a blond, she would be an incredibly beautiful woman.

The twin blushes on her cheeks assured him that his message was received.

Now, he had to go and make sure that things were ready for them when they went to leave later this evening. It was a solid four-hour drive to his home that only he and Davos knew about. And the sooner he had them out of King's Landing and to a place where she was safe, the sooner he could finally breathe.

And try to figure out what the hell he was going to do with Sansa Stark

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis and Sansa head to The Stormlands

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa twirled a lock of now blonde hair, the fading sunlight catching her new hair colour, as she stood in the penthouse watching the day come to a close on King's Landing. She wondered when she might make it back here. Was she really the person that could stop people that would go so far as to blow up her house?

Sansa loved her job and had been prepared for the backlash that came with being a nosy reporter. She hadn't been prepared to almost die doing her job. She sighed as she turned away from King's Landing. No use in crying over spilt milk, as Mordane used to stay. She knew that she couldn't stay here and continue to dig into those that had tried to hurt her.

Hair was hair, and she was pragmatic enough to understand that it made full sense to switch her looks. She'd always had a certain vanity when it had come to her long red locks, and she knew that Stannis had more than liked her looks. His hard dick pressed into her butt this morning had told her all she needed to know.

But when he'd emerged from his office and seen her new hair, he'd stopped and stared. A surge of feminine power had hummed through her. She was willing to admit that she was attracted to Stannis and that she loved it that he seemed to be attracted to her.

The intensity of his gaze was something she could get used to. Imagining this man in bed, all of that power, that control directed towards her? There was some definite wetness in her panties as she thought about that!

So, seeing him standing there, staring at her, Sansa couldn't help but flirt with the very buttoned-up security man. She wanted to drive Stannis as wild as he drove her.

He was so adorable how he was trying to do the right thing when it came to their relationship, keeping it professional. But even he couldn't hide how much he'd approved of her new look.

"Like it?"

He'd coughed and swallowed hard, and Sansa bit her cheek, more than pleased with the outcome. She knew the man wanted her, and she was going to do her very best to drive him wild so that his legendary control snapped.

"I do."

He'd come right up to her, those long, powerful strides eating up space in his penthouse. "We need to be on our way, but first, one more accessory. We have a few stops to make, and this will make things easier."

He held out a blue box, and Sansa arched an eyebrow.

Every single girl knew what a box from Tiffany's looked like.

"Stannis, I'm honoured, but don't you think it's a bit fast?"

She batted her eyelashes at him, joking around. The only way she was going to get through this upheaval in her life was to laugh her way through it. Otherwise, she'd just want to cry, and that did no one any good at all.

He rolled his eyes and tapped her nose. "Funny girl."

Then he opened it, and Sansa's hands flew to her open mouth.

"It was my mother's. Her engagement ring and wedding band." He held up his own ring finger and showed her a platinum band there already.

"My father's."

There was a wealth of emotion in his eyes, and Sansa knew that while this was for the 'job' and to keep her safe, he was sharing a part of himself with her. She nodded, holding out her hand, as he slid the wedding ring on, and then the stunning engagement ring.

 _Should it feel so right to see it there?_ Sansa thought. She'd known this man for less than two days.

And yet. She couldn't take her eyes from the set of rings that now adorned her fingers.

The engagement ring was a vintage piece, a 3-carat oval cut diamond with two large diamond baguettes on either side, all on a platinum band. It was, quite simply, the most gorgeous ring Sansa had ever seen, and even though she knew it was fake engagement, she couldn't help but hold her hand out to admire what it looked like on her hand.

"Here," Davos said, interrupting, handing her a Gucci wallet, along with a black Birkin purse. She had to give the man credit for excellent taste. 

"Inside, there is a license and some credit cards, a bit of cash."

Stunned, Sansa nodded.

Davos coughed. "Ummm, your new name is Sophia Baratheon. We thought we'd keep it close to your original one, so it's easier to remember."

Sansa turned to Stannis. "And you're my husband?"

"I am. I'm still Stannis as no one but your family knows that you are with me."

Stannis glanced at his watch.

"We need to go. It's a fair distance to my home in the Stormlands, and we have a few stops to make along the way."

Sansa nodded as Davos handed her a laptop and a new phone, and her eyes teared. These two men had done so much for her. They seemed to be some odd combination of super-secret spies, fairy godmothers and kick-ass bodyguards. Her head was officially spun; that was for sure.

"Thank you," she whispered, suddenly overcome. She hugged Davos hard.

"Listen to Stannis lass. He'll keep you safe."

"I will."

"And don't give up on him. I've never seen him look at someone the way he does you. He needs you, Sansa."

Sansa was starting to believe that she needed Stannis as well.

"I won't." She pressed a soft kiss to Davos' cheek and watched as he blushed. "Thank you. For everything."

Davos coughed and let her go, and Stannis took her hand in his.

"Ready Sophia?" He gave her a little wink, and Sansa giggled, nervous energy humming through her.

"Ready, hubby."

There was a flare of something there in his eyes when she said those words, but he said nothing. He'd ushered her out of the penthouse and into the waiting black Range Rover in his garage.

"I wish we could take the Bugatti. Where we are going, the roads are windy, and it hugs the curves of the coast much better." He sighed. "But it's winter, and the weather in the Stormlands is unpredictable. I'd hate to be stuck there."

Sansa honestly didn't care about vehicles in the least, but even she knew that the car Stannis had just referenced came with a high-end price tag.

_Who was this man, really?_

_And why on earth was his single?_

King's Landing was dark, the streets all but empty in the rainy night.

"They are investigating the fire. So far, you are listed as a missing person, with the possibility that you might have perished in the fire."

Sansa bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears. She'd loved her little house, and now it was gone. And people thought she was dead.

"I know it's not ideal, but it does buy us some time. In my experience, it will take the police at least three to four days to ensure you were not in the house at the time the house went up in flames."

 _How on earth did someone have experience in something like this_ , she thought?

"What about my colleagues at the paper? I need to get in touch with them, let them know that I'm alright, that I'm alive."

Stannis frowned, and she knew she would not like what he was about to say.

"Can you trust them?"

"Yes."

His jaw tightened, and she saw him grip the steering wheel hard. "Sansa, we don't know who is involved."

"Like your brother?" she shot back and saw a brief flash of pain in his eyes. She regretted her words instantly. Not that she'd said them. But how.

"I'm sorry. I'm reacting, lashing out. I know your job is to keep me safe, but I honestly trust the people I work with."

There was silence in the car, as Stannis navigated them closer to the outskirts of town, the familiar shapes of suburban houses whizzing past them.

"I'd been in military intelligence for five years, when a man I thought of as my best friend betrayed me," Stannis said, finally breaking the silence.

Sansa turned to stare at him.

"What happened?"

He gave her a bitter little grin and shrugged.

"We were in a shithole city called Tolos in Slaver's Bay, posing as weapons buyers. We were trying to stop a massive shipment of guns, from getting into the hands of some rebel groups. My friend, my colleague, a man I'd known for eight years and who'd had my back since the moment we entered training together, well, he got a better offer."

"What did you do?"

Stannis was quiet for a time, and Sansa wondered if he'd answer. Finally, he did.

"If the shipment had gone through, thousands of people would have died. The rebels were killing women and children, kidnapping the boys and making them into child soldiers. I knew what had to be done. And I did it."

Sansa reached out for his hand and squeezed it hard. She knew what that meant. 

"You're a hero."

He gave a brittle laugh.

"I shot my best friend, Sansa. They don't give you medals for that. Some wondered if I'd been turned as well. I had to work my ass off to prove I was still loyal. Things changed for me after that, and I was working more than ever. I chose to save my career over my family, and by the time I got out, my wife and I were done."

Sansa felt a bolt of jealousy course through her at the thought of Stannis being married to someone that wasn't her. She glanced down at the rings on her left hand, and as if he knew what she was thinking, Stannis shook his head.

"Selyse never wore those rings, Sansa. The last hand they were on was my mother."

Relief and something close to possession surged through Sansa.

"Good. And you're wrong, Stannis. Your wife should have understood what you were going through; she should have stuck by you."

As if he didn't even realize he was doing it, Stannis raised their clasped hands to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.

"I was a shit husband, Sansa, and she was hardly any better as a wife. We both made mistakes."

She nodded, pleased that her hand tingled where he'd kissed it.

"Where are we going?" she asked, changing the subject. Even in the dark, she saw his eyes light.

"First, we're stopping in Bronzegate. We need some supplies. And you need some more clothing."

She looked down at her clothes, giggling as she thought of Davos shopping for her at Walmart. She wasn't a snob, but it would be nice to pick out a few of her own things.

"I don't have any money," she said, and Stannis shook her head.

"You're my wife, remember?" He winked and touched her rings. "And you can't use any of your old cards. We have no idea if someone is monitoring them."

"Stannis, it's too much," she protested, although it was weak. Something warm and right had settled in her chest when he said that she was his wife. Gods, she was a mess!

"Sansa, it's not. Please, let me."

Knowing she had no other choice, and sensing that he was oddly adamant about this, she nodded. "Alright. But, you have to let me pay you back when this is all over."

He grimaced, and it was adorable and finally nodded. "Fine."

"So, what are we listening to on our drive through Kingswood?"

He groaned a bit. "I'm almost afraid to ask. What type of music do you like?"

Sansa grinned and took out she knew phone, seeing that her new apple ID had been entered as Sophia Baratheon, with a credit card attached. She clicked through some choices and then selected the one she wanted.

When the music filled the car, she saw the pleasure on Stannis's face as the familiar notes of La Bohème filled the vehicle.

"I figured you were a man that liked the classics," was all she said, and he smiled at her, humming along in appreciation.

Sansa grinned as she settled into her seat. Her life was in complete upheaval, but somehow, she was right where she knew she needed to be. It didn't hurt that she had her hand still in Stannis's nor that the man kept shooting her heated little glances.

For now, she'd go with it, safe and secure with a man she knew would do everything in his considerable power to keep her safe.

* * *

"What about this set, darling?" Sansa asked, fighting back the grin as she held up a lacy plum-coloured bra and panties set. They were in a high-end lingerie store in Bronzegate, Sansa insisting she needed some undergarments after Stannis had taken her clothing shopping.

In keeping with the ruse of being married, they'd held hands at they entered the store. Stannis was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt that showed off his incredible muscles and a caramel-coloured jacket. Even dressed down as he was, there was no mistaking his wealth and his power, and the clerks had all but tripped over themselves to help them.

He'd been on a mission in the first few stores, and the SUV was loaded down with things for her. Blouses, skirts, pants, sweaters, t-shirts, lounge clothes, shoes, boots, bathing suits. In two hours, Stannis had spun her head as he'd ordered the people in the stores to help his wife.

He'd kept his hand in hers, nuzzling her neck, making it seem like he was sweeping her away for a romantic weekend, and Sansa had seen more than woman eyeing him up. That only made her lean into him more, running her hands over his body and flirting shamelessly with him.

Now, she saw a muscle in his jaw tick, and she knew she had him. She hadn't missed the impressive bulge in his pants, and she licked her lips as she grabbed racier and racier sets. His eyes had narrowed when she'd picked up garters, stockings and a bra that had straps crisscrossing her back.

So, what she'd suspected appeared to be true. Stannis had a bit of a dominance kink. She could work with that. Sansa deliberately picked out things that she knew would look amazing on her, and that she knew would feed into his desires. She'd be damned if they were going to dance around this any longer. They were two consenting adults that clearly wanted one another.

"Your wife has excellent taste," one of the women said. She was stacked, at least a few inches taller and a few years older than Sansa and wearing a provocative blouse that showed the red bra she was wearing underneath.

Stannis didn't even look at her, his hazel eyes, intense and on her, as she threw a set of panties that had no middle onto her growing pile.

"Yes, she does. But she's being naughty," he said, making Sansa bite back a moan.

She was wet and this was almost backfiring on her. She wanted this man. He left the clerk and stalked closer to her.

"And she knows what happens to naughty, girls, doesn't she?"

Sansa bit her lip. "They get smacked."

She was gazing into his eyes, so she saw the approval there. Approval and need. He leaned in and sniffed.

"I can smell your arousal, Sansa. Is all that for me? Are you being a bad girl, so I punish you?"

"I am."

For a moment, it felt as if all the air was sucked out from between them, their faces so close. Sansa saw everything she'd ever wanted in this man's eyes. She knew they'd have to talk about this. One did not just 'enter' into a dom-sub relationship without a serious discussion about boundaries, desires and hard limits. But step one was getting this man to admit he wanted her – that he was as wild for her as she was for him.

Stannis leaned down, and Sansa thought he might finally kiss her when a cough interrupted them.

"I'll just ring these up," the clerk said.

Sansa groaned in frustration.

Aghhhhh!!

Why were they continually being interrupted?

Stannis grasped her hand and handed over his credit card, never taking his eyes from hers. They hurried out to the SUV, and he almost threw the bag inside. Then he turned, pinning her against the big black vehicle.

"Tell me to stop, Sansa."

"I don't want you to stop."

He groaned. "Sansa. I'm your bodyguard."

"Is that all?"

His eyes bored into hers.

"Gods no. What you do to me," he practically snarled and then his lips were on hers.

Sansa wanted to cry out in glee, but she was too wrapped up in what Stannis was doing to her. She wound her arms around him, pulling him closer. His hands reached down and cupped her ass, so that they were pressed against one another, as his mouth took hers, ruthlessly. He gave her no quarter, his tongue, teeth and lips demanding more from her. She loved every second and wiggled, needing more friction against her center. She was achy and wet and knew with a few subtle movements he could get here off.

She whimpered when he pulled his mouth away.

"No, I don't think you'll get to come just yet. You were very bad in the store Sansa."

"Stannis," she said, hearing the whine, the need in her voice.

She cried out with the loss of him as he stepped back, looking at her. "Gods, you’re beautiful, baby. I'm going to do this right," he said. Then he leaned in and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She melted against him.

"Are you sure, Sansa? I am not an easy man. I am demanding, possessive and intense."

Sansa grinned.

"Good. I'm tired of men that can't meet my needs. And just so you know, I'm career-driven, independent and bossy."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Outside the bedroom."

"And inside the bedroom?"

Sansa sucked in a deep breath. This was the moment where she could either reveal what she'd always wanted or hide it and have perfectly normal, vanilla sex with Stannis and probably move on at the end of this entire ordeal.

"I want something more. I have these… desires, and no man has ever come close to fulfilling them."

He said nothing, and she wondered if she'd miscalculated until a breath shuddered out of him. "Gods, woman, you're going to kill me. I have desires too that have not been met."

Sansa loved how he spoke, and she reached out and stroked his cheek.

"I'm not lying when I say I value my career, Stannis. But inside the bedroom, I've always wanted to explore my more submissive side. I don't know much. I'm new to all of this. And I don't know how far I want to take it." She swallowed hard. "But I want to explore that side of me."

Stannis turned and pressed a kiss to her palm. Then his eyes were back on hers.

"I'm a dominant man, Sansa. And if you trust me, we have time, alone to discover what we both might like. There is no need to rush into anything. These are serious matters, and communication is key. But, I need to know you feel no pressure. You are under my care. As much as I want you, I do not ever want you to feel like you 'owe' me anything."

Sansa felt like her heart might explode. Had she ever had someone care for her as much as Stannis did? Even now, he could push her. He wasn't the only one that could smell how turned on she was. Instead, he was giving her an out.

She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him, her hands on his face.

"I love the idea of exploring what is between us. I'm excited to learn about this lifestyle with you. And no, you are not in any way, taking advantage of me."

His strong arms lifted her to him, so she was once again wrapped around him.

"Then let's go to Rain House, Sansa. I need you."

So simple, so direct. No games. No pretense. Just that they needed one another.

"Take me home, Stannis."

* * *

There was a palpable hum of sexual tension between them as Stannis raced out of Bronzegate and towards the coast. But it wasn't a bad hum; instead, Sansa sunk into it, loving it. Stannis kept his hand in hers, stroking his thumb over her hand and asking her questions about her family.

She opened up to him, telling him all about Arya and Robb, her little brothers, carefully skirting around any mention of her mother or father. That was a fraught relationship, and she didn't want to ruin the mood.

As they drove further into the Stormlands, Sansa asked about Shireen. For a moment she wondered if it mattered to her that Stannis had a daughter that was only a few years younger than her, and then realized it didn't.

She told him that and was pleased to see his slightly shocked expression.

"I'm direct, Stannis."

Some men she had dated had used the term 'blunt,' but Sansa didn't like games, and she didn't think Stannis would either. At least not those type of games.

What was the point of lying in a relationship? Especially when it was first starting. It got a person nowhere. Better everyone understood who she was at the beginning.

"I appreciate the directness," he said, and she beamed at him.

"Where are we going?"

He'd mentioned something called Rain House before, but she didn't know this area well.

Stannis looked at her.

"It's my private domain, across the bay from Storm's End, our family seat in Shiperwrecker Bay. While Storm's End is shared by all of us, I knew I needed my own space. Rain House is mine, and no one but Davos knows that I own it."

It was several more hours, up the winding coast, the forest on one side the sea on the other, when Stannis finally announced that they were close.

"I've had it completely redone," he told her as he turned into a gravel driveway with massive gates. He entered a code, and they swung silently open. As they drove up the twisty driveway, Sansa gasped as the modern house came into view. It was all glass and wood and concrete and seemed to blend into the forest surrounding it.

"There is a pathway down to the beach, but I wanted it to be set back from it," he explained to her. The house was warmly lit and welcoming.

"Stannis, it's gorgeous."

"You are the first person besides Cressan and me to be here, Sansa."

She was honoured and knew that this was more than just protecting her. Stannis was letting her into his most private place; his actions spoke volumes about his feelings for her.

"Thank you," she told him, and he smiled as they exited the vehicle, taking her hand as he pulled into the garage.

They got out and hauled all her purchases into the house, and then stood there, looking at one another. There was a moment of awkwardness, as the bags were placed haphazardly around the main foyer. Then Stannis glanced towards the kitchen.

"I bet you're hungry," he started to say, and Sansa shook her head. She knew what he was doing, and she adored him for it. He was trying not to press her into anything. But she wanted him, and he wanted her. And now they were here, alone and with no distractions and no one to interrupt them.

"You're not?"

"Oh, I'm hungry, Stannis. But not for food."

His eyes went dark with need, and he stood perfectly still. "Be sure, Sansa."

"I am." She shucked off her coat and kicked off her shoes. She was reaching for her t-shirt to pull it over her head when he was there, his hand stilling hers.

"Not here. In my bed," he said, need making his voice low.

"Show me."

He grabbed her hand and hurried her through the stunning house, up a set of stairs and into a master bedroom that rivalled the one he had in King's Landing. Then his lips were on hers.

"We won't play tonight, baby," he was telling her, undressing her with quick, sure movements. "I need you too badly."

Sansa knew the language in dom-sub relationships. Playing or doing a scene meant that they were acting out one of their fantasies, and they weren't there yet. Still, the idea that they might get there made her moan, as did whatever he was doing to her breasts.

She glanced down and saw that his mouth was latched on to her nipple, tugging at it through the lace.

"Fuck, I wanted my mouth on you this morning," he said.

"I wanted that, as well. I was awake, you know."

He stilled, his eyes going to hers. "You were?"

She nodded.

"Fucking hells," he muttered and then scooped her up, carrying her to the bed. She had on her capris, a bra and nothing else. Stannis just stood there, looking at her, and she stilled, letting him look. 

"I feel like I've been waiting for you my whole life," he muttered, almost to himself.

"I feel like you're overdressed."

He grinned and threw off his coat and pulled off his t-shirt, revealing the ripped man beneath. Sansa licked her lips and her eyes followed his hands down as he undid he belt and kicked off his jeans and boxers, so he stood gloriously naked in front of her.

 _Holy fucking hells_ , Sansa thought. _How on earth did he walk with a dick that big?_ And he wasn't even fully hard. There was a bead of moisture on the tip, and before he could react, she crawled towards him. She needed him in her mouth, and she cupped his balls as her mouth took him deep.

"Shit, Sansa," he said, hands in her hair. "That's it, baby, suck me," he groaned, and she willingly did. He was hard, hot and salty as she worked his dick as best she could, trying to take him deep.

Stannis ran his hands along her jaw, opening it up slightly, and she changed the angle to suck him off better.

"That's good, Sansa. Keep going," he commanded and need flooded her. She knew they had things to talk about, where to take this relationship, but already that tone he used was setting her on fire. She was so lost in what she was doing, that she barely noticed when he pulled her away gently and held her face in his hands.

She frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, baby. Nothing. But I need to see you, Sansa."

She grinned, standing on the bed and shimmying out of her clothing, so she was as naked as he was. She was unashamed as he gazed at her body; there was such need there, but an edge of tenderness and such caring that she knew she was safe with this man.

"You're so beautiful. I want to do so many things to you, with you. I want to be close to you, Sansa."

Since she knew precisely what he meant, she leaned forward and took his mouth. "I want that as well, Stannis. Have me," she told him.

He laid her down on the huge bed and then spent what felt like hours running his hands and his lips all over her body. She was a shivering, quaking mess by the time he finally rose up above her.

"Do we need protection? I am clean, and it has been several months since I've been with anyone."

Sansa shook her head. "I'm on the pill, and it's been well over a year since I've been with anyone."

He cupped her sex, parting her folds, sinking two fingers inside her. "I haven't been with anyone bare since my wife, Sansa. And that was years ago." She knew this was a huge admission for him and how special it made her. 

"I've never been with anyone like that. I've hardly been with anyone at all, Stannis."

Possession flared in his eyes. "Once I have you, you're mine, Sansa."

"That goes both ways, Stannis. I see how women look at you. Once we're together, you're mine as well."

He nodded, too overcome to speak and took her lips as he surged inside her, stretching her almost to the point of pain. She hadn't been lying when she said it had been a while since she'd last been with a man, and Stannis wasn't small by any means.

"Alright?" he asked, his lips tugging at her earlobe.

"Yes," she hissed as he moved, dragging himself out and then surging back inside her. He did it again and again, ruthlessly opening her up as she tried to keep him inside her, setting a pace that she was helpless to control.

She could only wrap her legs around him and hold on, her nails biting into his well-defined shoulders as Stannis Baratheon, quite literally, rocked her world. No man had ever fucked her like he did, with a single-mindedness that made it so that she was coming within minutes. Still hard, he flipped her, so she was on her hands and knees, and then gripped her hips and pounded her from behind.

Lost in the maelstrom of need, Sansa caught sight of the rings on her fingers, and for a moment, as he thrust inside her, wondered what it might be like if this was her husband. Then his hand found her clit, and Stannis flicked it, chasing all thoughts but pleasure from her mind. A single smack on her ass, a pinch of her hard clit, and she was tightening on him again, screaming his name as he pounded into her, driving inside her again and again, until finally, he let out a guttural cry and spilled deep inside her, bathing her with his come.

She was barely coherent as he washed her and then gathered her into his arms.

"Do I need to find my own bed?" she said as she sleepily cuddled into him.

"No, baby. This is where you sleep from now on."

"Good," she said and then closed her eyes, feeling him press a soft, gentle kiss to her forehead.

She was almost asleep when she heard him whisper, _you're home, Sansa. And you're mine._

Since she wholeheartedly agreed, she smiled and drifted off to sleep, sated and happy in a way she had never been before, and thanking the gods for sending Stannis Baratheon crashing into her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Back to the plot of who is trying to kill Sansa, can Robert be trusted, is Tywin truly a BAD guy and yes, that all-important talk that Stansa has to have


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More relationship type stuff

* * *

_ Rain House – Stannis _

_It was incredible what a difference twenty-four hours could make,_ Stannis thought. 

Instead of waking with Sansa's lush ass pressed against his cock and being unable to do a single thing about it, this morning, Stannis knew if he wished he could wake her up screaming him name.

The weak winter light was coming through the generous windows in the master bedroom and the sheer rightness of having Sansa not only in his arms and his bed but in _this_ home that was his private domain, washed over him.

For so long, Stannis had resigned himself to the fact that while he had almost everything he wanted in this life, something was missing. And that something had been a woman that matched him – sexually, intellectually, romantically.

He had a lovely daughter that was intelligent, kind and funny.

He had a successful business and a thriving career.

He had two lovely homes and enough money that meant he could walk away from it all in a moment's notice if he wished.

If his dating history and sex life had been sadly lacking, well, he'd chalked that up to having tastes that deviated outside the norm and that a man like him just couldn't have it all. 

He'd never even considered finding a woman that matched him so well that he'd find himself contemplating if it were possible to have someone in his life on a more permanent basis. He was a divorced man, and though Selyse hadn't broken his heart, it had made him wary of trusting anyone again.

A week ago, Stannis would have said he’d never ever entertain the thought of marrying again.

And then Sansa had happened.

Sliding his mother's rings onto Sansa's fingers had felt so profoundly correct that the emotion of the moment had threatened to overwhelm him. There had never been a time in his life with Selyse that he'd wanted those rings on her fingers. But with Sansa? It hasn’t been a question. Two days with Sansa and he was calling her his wife – even if it was fake. And the craziest part was how right it all felt.

He thought about their drive to Rain House, the teasing, the warmth, the undercurrent of sexual tension. And yet, through all of that, such understanding and acceptance of one another. They had been on the same wavelength and it had been so refreshing and so welcome that he’d reveled in it.

Stannis felt her move, as she squirmed tighter into his arms, and let out a contented sighed. In the distance, he heard the waves crashing on the beach and wondered if Sansa might want to go exploring with him. They had so much privacy here, and he hoped that if they were able to get outside and really spend some time together, then some of the more complicated and delicate topics they had to discuss would come up organically without him pressing too hard.

Stannis wouldn't fool himself into thinking that this relationship would be easy. He knew his brother was involved in some way with what had happened to Sansa. Sansa had to have stumbled upon something incredibly big if people had gone to such lengths to eliminate her. She had a right to be wary of him and his family.

Then there were all the little comments, hints, innuendos when it came to their preferences when it came to sex. Stannis had been right about her submissive kink, and he'd been humbled when Sansa had opened up to him yesterday and told him that she was interested in exploring that aspect of herself with him. But she'd also said she'd only slept with two men before him and was relatively new to that world.

Not for the first time did Stannis curse that awful book called Fifty Shades of Grey, which in his opinion had done more harm than good to those who played in the dom/sub world.

He would be considered an amateur in this world, but he knew enough to get them safely started on their journey together. But nothing about them had to be rushed – they would get there, when and if they, of that Stannis had no doubts.

And even if it never want to far into that world, he knew that Sansa was everything to him. He’d never connected with any woman like he had her.

He took one last glance down at the woman in his arms, missing for a moment the fiery red hair he'd first been drawn to, but understanding she was safer with her new look. Still, he looked forward to the day when her red hair was back, and he could have her proudly on his arm, attending events that their families held and then coming home together. Perhaps he was jumping the gun, as they said, but everything with Sansa just felt right.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then slid from the bed, pulling on a pair of black work out pants and soft grey t-shirt.

Stannis wanted to get the coffee started, check-in with Davos and generally get things settled in the house. While Stannis paid an older couple to come by weekly to clean, stock and warm the home, he liked puttering around on his own. When he was here, he had no staff present. He was a grown-ass man and could cook for himself. Even now, in the dead of winter, the place was equipped with a backup generator, a satellite phone, wood heat and three fully stocked pantries. He could live out here for weeks if needed.

They didn't often get a snowstorm here, unlike what Sansa would be used to in the North, but if a particularly brutal storm blew in, it could knock power out for a week. Rain House was remote and therefore he needed to be prepared for a worst case scenario which he was.

Stannis grinned when he saw all the shopping bags that had been dropped haphazardly in the entranceway, planning on running them up to their bedroom shortly. He had to give her credit – she could shop with the best of them. It settled something in him, seeing the high end names on the bags.

But, first, coffee, he thought, turning towards the kitchen.

Stannis got that going, and then wandered to the great room, where the vast glass windows gave a stunning view towards the ocean, he noted the slightly misty day. It wasn't perfect, but it would still be a great day to go for a walk down to the beach and do some exploring. He bent down, added a few logs to the fireplace, grabbed several shopping bags and all but dashed up the stairs.

He entered his bedroom again, saw Sansa was still buried beneath the blankets and made a second trip before the coffee was perked.

When he took his first sip, he sighed.

_Was there anything better than that first sip?_

Then he thought back to being buried inside Sansa's body last night and knew there was. He was wrapped up in his thoughts when he heard Sansa on the stairs. She had pulled on another one of his t-shirts and some slouchy socks, her blonde hair up in a messy knot on the top of her head.

She looked at him shyly, so he held out his hand, and quickly joined him, taking it and fitting herself against his lean, muscular body as they stood together in the Great Room.

"Good morning," he rumbled out as her hands took his cup of coffee. He brushed his lips across the crown of her head. There was a single sip left in his cup, which she drank and then laid her head against his chest. Gods, she felt perfect there.

"Hi."

“Hi.”

The quietness stretched between them, and Stannis wondered what type of small talk she expected from him, when she saved him from himself.

"This is quite the view. I thought the penthouse was impressive, but this…" She tilted her head up to him, a soft smile on her face.

"This is amazing, Stannis. It feels like we're the only two people in the entire world."

It pleased Stannis that she approved of his home – it was something private and personal to him, and he'd never brought anyone else here.

"I was hoping that we could do some exploring," he mentioned. "I know you have work, and I'm here to help with whatever you need. But I'd like to show you the beach." Then Stannis frowned. "It's a bit of a walk, and a lot of stairs…"

Sansa had risen on her tiptoes and captured his lips with hers.

"That sounds wonderful. Do I get the grand tour of your home?"

Her eyes sparkled, Stannis thought, mesmerized by her. Then he reached down and grabbed her ass, making her squeak at her pulled her into his arms.

"Food or tour first?"

She was wrapped around him like a monkey and damned if it didn't feel perfect. It was nothing for him to hold her there, his hands on that bite-able arse.

"Food. Tour. Exploring. Work." She had punctuated each word with a kiss and had to feel how hard he was. Then she winked at him and ground down on his dick.

"And maybe something more."

He growled as she popped out of his arms and laughingly dashed towards the kitchen. Stannis could only stare after her, wondering how it came to be that she was here – and how he could keep her.

After breakfast, in which Stannis resisted, barely, having Sansa, he recommended a shower first and then she'd get the full tour of the house, inside and out. Wasting no time, she turned towards the stairs, pausing when he stayed in the kitchen.

She was frowning. "Aren't you joining me?"

He froze for a single moment before his powerful body was moving towards her. Pass up a chance to have her naked and wet in his shower? Not in this lifetime. She must have seen the hunger in his eyes, for she turned to race up the stairs, and Stannis paused for a moment as his grey t-shirt floated back down towards him.

Sansa was naked.

Sansa was naked in his house.

Sansa was naked, in his house, with no one around for miles to interrupt them.

Stannis all but sprinted up the stairs, following her into the master bathroom, thanking the gods he'd spared no expense when he'd redone the house.

The shower was a work of art, fully modernized with radiant floor heating, innovative lightening, stone walls with benches, dual rainfall showerheads, a steam shower and multiple jets for when his entire body needed them. Stannis had even gone so far as to have a computer screen on one of the walls in case he was needed immediately.

He watched as Sansa was wiggling around to try to get the water temperature correct. Then he was pulling off his pants and shucking his t-shirt until he was as naked as she was. She must have heard him, for she turned, openly eyeing him up and licking her lips.

Gods, this woman and what she did to him. She had to know, didn’t she?

He growled and stalked towards her as the water heated. He had an armful of warm Sansa as their lips met. Any edge that had been sated by their coupling last night was long gone, as his dick bumped up against her warm entrance.

She nipped at him. "Need you now."

While he usually preferred to be the one who called the shots when it came to sex, knowing that she wanted him this much made his blood heat, and he adjusted slightly so she could sink down on him, just as he stepped into the shower. The combination of him inside her, and the warm water on her body had her moaning, and Stannis had to use all his concentration not to drop them both.

Instead, he found the little ledged he'd installed, knowing it was the perfect height, reared back and then thrust into her, opening her up ruthlessly to him.

Sansa's nailed dug into his shoulders, and he roared back, loving the bite of pain.

"Stannis," she whimpered as he fucked her hard against the stones of the shower wall.

"Hang on baby," was all he could say.

This was going to be fast, hard and oh so pleasurable for the both of them.

"Need you too much," he muttered, and she nodded, giving him full permission to fuck her the way he needed to.

As he pounded into her, there were no more words. Stannis drove them both up towards their peaks fast and without mercy. He felt her body clenching around him, and he dug his hands into her ass, grinding into her on each downward stroke. Stannis found her lips, his kisses bruising as their bodies slammed together, again and again, the warm water making them even slicker, until finally, he heard her gasp.

"Ohhhhh – Jesus --- oh god –" Sansa said, and he grinned.

"Right there?" he said, twisting his hips and hitting her g-spot, watching her eyes all but roll back in her head.

"Don't stop," she demanded.

Stannis smirked, and kept up his ruthless pace. Then he watched as she screamed and shattered in his arms, before tightening on him so much, he had to shove hard back into her to coat her womb with his spendings. Panting, Stannis vaguely realized that Sansa was giggling softly as she had her arms wrapped around his neck, licking and kissing him.

"That was so good," she said, eyes full of delight.

"Hell yeah, that was good."

Mind-bending good. It was incredible. They hadn't even discussed their kinks, yet this was already the best sex Stannis had ever had. There was an edge with Sansa, something that was beyond uncomplicated vanilla sex that appealed to him so much.

Gods, the thought of her actually submitting to him? To turning her pleasure over to him? His cock rallied, and since he was still buried balls deep inside her, he flexed and watched her eyes flare wide.

"Ohhhhhh," she said, moaning and canting her hips, seeking more from him. He loved how she instinctively responded to him. "Again?"

Stannis did not want to know about her past lovers, but clearly, stamina had never been a thing with them. Stannis had full intentions of putting those other men to shame.

"Slower this time, now that the worst of the ache is gone," he told her quietly and saw her nod.

"Ohhhh, I like that," she responded, tilting her head so he could kiss her softly.

Being dominant did not mean inflicting pain, hurting her, humiliating her. For Stannis, it meant having Sansa trust him to see to her pleasure and what she needed – perhaps before even she knew.

Like now.

This coupling was different from the previous two times. He touched her everywhere, gently, reverently, kissing her softly, rubbing her nipples until they were hard and then finally, allowing his thumb to find her clit and stroke her to another mind-blowing orgasm.

She was almost limp in his arms when pulled out and then came all over her stomach, painting her with his come. Her eyes followed his every move, and then her fingers were there, rubbing it into her stomach as if she knew he'd needed to mark her in the most primal way.

And just when he thought she couldn't blow his mind anymore, she brought her fingers to her mouth, covered in _him_ and licked them clean, the entire time, her eyes locked on him.

"Yum."

He growled and pulled her close, uncaring that she was covering in his spendings that were now on him, and kissed her with everything he had, carding his hands through her hair until he almost felt dizzy from lack of breath. This woman was going to kill him, but what a fucking way to go.

"Sansa," he finally said, both of them breathing hard, their eyes locked on each other. Thank god he had an endless hot water tank.

"You feel it as well then? It's not just me?"

Stannis heard the slight worry, the fear in her voice, that maybe this was nothing more than great sex.

"Gods, baby, I do. This is so much, Sansa."

"Thank god," she said and wrapped herself up in his arms, shaking slightly.

Stannis realized that more than the dom/sub talk, they seriously needed to talk about what this meant to each other. Rubbing her back, he leaned down to speak directly into her ear.

"Sansa, I am a deliberate man, that takes entering into a relationship seriously. I have been in very few relationships in my life. From the moment I saw you at your father's event in the North, I was drawn to you. Seeing you two evenings ago, on the arm of that other man almost destroyed me," Stannis growled, his jealousy rising.

The woman in his arms laughed and pressed a kiss to his chest. She raised her head so he could see her face.

"Oh? And what was I to think with Dany Drogo hanging all over you, mister?" She drilled a finger into his chest, which he grabbed and sucked into his mouth.

"You were to think she was a client and nothing more."

Stannis paused and then cupped her face, drawing a finger down her cheek.

"Sansa, there hasn't been anyone in my entire life that has made me feel the way you do. I know that might be too much to hear since we've barely even spent any time together, but it is the truth."

Her eyes were warm, and she shook her head.

"Not too much at all. I feel like I've been waiting for a man like you, Stannis, my whole life. Nothing else had even come close to what you make me feel."

The tension he didn't know he'd been feeling released from his shoulders.

"I meant what I said yesterday. I don't share, Sansa."

Her smile was fierce.

"Good. Neither do I. You're mine Stannis."

Something bloomed inside his chest at her words. He'd never been a man that a woman had wanted to claim, and certainly not one like Sansa. Momentarily stunned, he could only swallow around the massive lump in his throat and nod.

"Yours."

"Good. Now can we wash? I'm all pruny," she said, wrinkling her nose.

Shaking his head at her, wondering how she was both the sexiest woman alive and the most adorable, Stannis found the shampoo and condition, working both into her long hair. He couldn't help but drop a kiss along her elegant neck, nor his hands from wandering to cup her breasts, but he didn't push for anything more. He knew she'd be sore, no matter what she might say, and he was excited to show her Rain House and the surrounding area.

When he finally turned the water off, Stannis wrapped her in a huge, fluffy white towel, and wondered if he'd ever had such an enjoyable Sunday morning.

Unable to recall, he smirked as she happily dumped her new clothing all over the bed, wondering if she was messy. It wouldn't matter if she were – he'd either clean up himself or hire someone to clean up for them. All Stannis wanted was her – this woman with the giant brain, bigger heart and spine of steel.

As if sensing he was watching her, Sansa stilled and turned.

He was in jeans, bare feet and had a sweater on. He'd gone down to get them both coffee as she'd happily sorted through her clothing, trying to find something to wear. He was leaning against the door jam, drinking his coffee and watching her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For keeping me safe. For being you. For taking a chance – on us."

More moved by her simple words than he could say, he stalked towards her, leaning down to kiss her.

"Always," he said, watching her nod.

"Always."

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment before he stole another kiss. Then with a grin, he told her to get her ass dressed and meet him downstairs for the tour in ten minutes, or he was leaning without her.

He was chuckling when he heard her yell at him, "You love my ass, Stannis."

"I do. But if it's late, it's being left behind."

Then he hurried to find his boots, grinning at how carefree he felt, and how good it was to have a woman back in his life, even with the genuine threat to her safety hanging over their head. That was a challenge, not a deal-breaker to a man like him, and for the next few hours, he was determined to help her forget the darkness that was stalking her, and show her the joy of the Stormlands and the land that had captured his heart.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next
> 
> Stannis and Sansa explore and they try to figure out who is trying to kill her


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis and Sansa talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the talk we've all been waiting for. If this isn't your cup of tea, turn around now. 
> 
> If it is your cup of tea, enjoy it!

* * *

_ Sansa _

Sansa hurried to get dressed, sensing that Stannis was eager to show her his home. What she'd seen so far had blown her away. She had always loved the rain, whether it was lying in her bed reading a book, or running through it on a warm summers evening and Rain House seemed absolutely perfect to her – even with the grey clouds. Unlike some people, Sansa felt the rain made everything cozy.

The ocean view he had was breathtaking, and the cliffs and beaches below looked almost deserted. She thanked the gods he'd insisted she purchase a new pair of Hunter rain boots, and an expensive North Face rain jacket when they had been shopping yesterday.

Giggling to herself when she felt the slight soreness down _there_ , Sansa gave herself a moment to think back to all that had happened since they’d walked through the doors last night.

It seemed surreal that she was now, here, in the private domain of Stannis Baratheon. More, that they had come together so passionately last night and again this morning, and yet, nothing about them being together felt awkward.

As hot as the sex had been last night, falling asleep in his arms had been even better. It was like they'd skipped all the weird 'getting to know' you stages in a relationship, and fast-forwarded straight to coupledom.

And the best part was, neither one of them seemed to mind. She’d never met a man that she felt so comfortable with, and yet so attracted to at the same time.

Her rings glittered as she dressed and she stopped for a moment to admire them, brushing her long fingers over them.

What might it be like, to be Stannis's wife, not just as a ruse, but because he'd chosen her? Would he even marry again? Sansa wondered.

Many divorced men never took the plunge again – once burned and twice shy. Still, Sansa sensed that putting these rings on her fingers had meant something to Stannis, and she held on to that idea as she finished dressing. 

And then there was the enormous elephant in the room if this relationship turned into what she was hoping it would – children.

Sansa might be very focused on her career right now, but one day, she wanted a family. And no matter how much Stannis stole her breath, make her heart pound, made her scream in the bedroom, that would be a deal-breaker for her. If he didn’t want any more children, she knew she’d have to end things.

Pushing that negative thought away, knowing they were nowhere near ready to have that discussion, she quickly found a hat and pulled her long, blond hair through the opening in the back and then rushed downstairs to find her man.

Her man! Eek! Stannis Baratheon was all hers.

He was standing back in the kitchen, with two Yeti mugs full of coffee. Clearly, he was a man that knew the way to her heart; she grinned and sipped, moaning slightly as she took him in.

Thick sweater, jeans, sturdy boots.

Yum.

He looked so good, and Sansa didn’t know what look she liked better; this or the way the man filled out a suit. It was definitely a toss-up.

His eyebrow arched when she moaned and Sansa saw the heat there.

Good. She wanted to drive him mad, even though they'd just had each other in the shower. Her body felt primed, with this constant awareness of him, humming between them. If he dragged her upstairs for round three, she’d willingly go.

Sansa winked at him and swore he shifted to adjust the growing bulge in his pants.

"Right then," he said, holding out his hand for her. "Outside or inside first?"

Sansa glanced at the enormous windows and saw the dark clouds gathering far off on the horizon.

"Outside."

He guided her to the bright mud room that led to a huge back deck.

"Do you need an umbrella?" he asked, voice low and deep in her ear. The feeling of his breath there warmed her and sent a delicious shiver through her body.

"No."

"Good. Then I can hold your hand."

He took her outside, a light misty rain enveloping them. Everything was so green here, the trees so big as Sansa realized that his home was in the middle of what appeared to be an old-growth forest.

"It's a temperate rain forest. We're south enough for the trees to have the best conditions for growing, but not quite warm enough for it to be a tropical one. Some of these beasts are hundreds of years old," he said with affection. It was clear he loved his home, and Sansa drank it all in.

"I built back from the beach, but there is a series of staircases that lead down to the ocean."

He pulled her to one corner of his massive deck, that was several levels, and built almost over a cliff.

"I wanted to feel like there was nothing between me and nature," he explained. He gave a rueful grin.

"It was a feat of engineering to get this deck built, but well worth it," he told her.

"Stannis, this is amazing," Sansa said, truly awed. Last night she hadn't realized what a view he had, nor had she understood how elaborate a build this house was. And to have the vision to do all of this? Incredible.

On the deck, there was an area that Sansa knew would hold outdoor furniture, an elaborate cooking area, a section with a covered awning and railing with clear glass to make you feel like you were sitting amongst the giant trees. Right at the edge, where they were standing, Stannis turned her gently and pulled her to him, so she rested against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, making her feel safe and cherished.

His mouth was once again, close to her ear as if they were the only two people in the entire world. He pointed through the gap in the forest.

"That's my beach. Some of it butts up against a park, but there is no one else that owns land right here."

"How much do you have?"

"A hundred acres, Sansa."

She gasped and turned, and their eyes collided.

"Stannis, that's…" she was at a loss for words. How much money did this man have to purchase a hundred prime acres of land?

"I like my privacy," was all he said.

"It's gorgeous," she whispered, not taking her eyes from him.

"Sansa," he murmured before his lips were on hers.

They were so gentle, so soft that she felt her heart crack wide open. This man was everything; at turns so dominant and in control that he fulfilled all her deepest fantasies, but then equally soft and caring. For the first time since this had started, Sansa started to think that perhaps he was as lonely as she was. And maybe, just maybe, Stannis was the type of man that would love as profoundly as she did when he finally let someone in. Maybe they could be each other’s great loves.

"Show me your beach, Stannis," she whispered against his lips.

His grin was everything, full of such happiness and pure joy that she knew it was the right thing. The steps were slick, and they took their time as they picked their way down the endless steps towards the beach. He was behind her, and when she slipped, his hand was on her elbow to steady her.

"Wow, my ass is going to get a workout going back up," she told him, giving him a look.

"You won't get any complaints from me. Got to keep it, tight baby," he said, his grin hot and hungry. Gods, he could go from sweet and protective to big bad dom in a heartbeat. She loved it.

"Funny man," she drawled, rolling her eyes at him.

They finally got to the bottom and then walked along the little wooden boardwalk through the temperate forest until they came to the beach. It was, as promised, completely private, and they were the only two people there. There were massive cliffs at the far end of the little cove where they found themselves, and pieces of driftwood everywhere, worn smooth after being battered by countless waves.

They walked down the beach, Sansa sucking in a deep breath of the salt air. It was stunningly beautiful here, a place that felt entirely their own, that no one else even knew about. Eventually, Stannis guided them to a bigger log, where they sat, him wrapping a big arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they sat in comfortable silence for a time.

Finally, working up her courage, she tilted her head so she could see that he was focused on her.

"So, how long have you been a dom?"

His warm chuckled filled her with gooey happiness, and she grinned at him.

His finger came up and touched the tip of her nose.

"You like to push me."

She laughed.

"I do. But I'm also naturally too curious for my own good, tenacious to a fault, and when an idea lodges itself in my head, I can't let it go."

She paused, waiting to see if he had a problem with any of that. Then sucking a deep breath, she rushed forward, before she lost her courage.

"And, I've been searching for a long time for someone I felt matched me in the bedroom. That knew my needs almost before I did."

She shrugged when he just gazed at her.

"I'm not good at letting things go."

He nodded slowly.

"I can see that. When I came back from the North, I looked you up, Sansa. What I found was a woman passionately dedicated to her job. Driven. Professional. Intelligent. And I didn't think I stood a chance with you. I'm twenty years older than you, a father, and have one failed marriage under my belt."

Sansa didn't say anything, having a feeling he was working his way back to her original question. She hoped like hell he realized he had her now. None of what he’d said mattered. She didn’t care about their age gap and the only issue she had about him being a father, was, would he want to be one again – if this continued?

"When I saw you in that restaurant, I wanted to snatch you away from your date and roar to everyone that you were mine."

She grinned, liking that image. "I'd have liked that."

He gave a rueful shake of his head.

"I've never experienced anything like that before Sansa. I am a man that is always in control, who rarely allows emotions to dictate anything in my life. Later, when I thought all was lost, and your father called me, stating you were in danger, I knew I would tear Westeros apart if you were hurt. But still – I never expected more. I do not sleep with my clients, Sansa."

She frowned. "Is that how you see me? As a client?"

He snorted. "Gods no. You refused to remain in the neat little box I had constructed for you." He was quiet then, before he added, "Thank god."

Pleased, she leaned back against him, looking at the darkening clouds on the horizon. When he spoke, she turned back to see him, knowing this was a pivotal point in their relationship.

"As to how I became a dom, I am not a man that participates in that lifestyle openly – in that I do not have a room of pain, nor a dungeon in a club. I don't prowl around in leather pants, and I doubt I will ever want or need to see a woman I've claimed wear my collar."

He paused.

"What I did discover after my divorce was that it gives me pleasure to be in control of a woman's pleasure in a bedroom. I am aroused by her placing her trust in me, to see to her needs, to trust that I will push her when required and that I can read her body, her wants, and desires and love that she gives that power over to me. To trust me that much."

"Go on," was all she said, intrigued, fascinated. It sounded like he was reading her mind. And god, she was curious. 

His hand came up to stroke her cheek.

"There is so much to discuss, Sansa. We have many things to work through if you are interested in going down this road together."

She heard the unsaid, but.

"But…"

"But I won't pressure you. I do believe we are well matched and could fulfill one another in a way others have not been able to. I think we have both been missing something in our lives. When I think of you permitting me to see to your pleasure, Sansa, I can imagine a lazy afternoon, when I might deny you orgasm for hours, keeping you on the very edge, until you are nothing but a sensitive mess, dying for completion. Other times that might mean I blindfold you or restrain you in some way."

Her breath hitched, need and want pulsating through her.

"Tell me more."

"It is not about humiliation but about trusting me to know what you need. Perhaps that's something quick and fast, or one day it might mean keeping you on the edge of orgasm for hours before I let you come. Sometimes you might need the sting of pain to truly send you over the top, while another time, slow and gentle. It is about trusting yourself and me so that together we can bring each other more pleasure than if we ignored these parts of ourselves."

"And outside the bedroom?"

He brushed his lips across hers.

"You are my equal in every single way – if not more, Sansa. Our games, our pleasures, our needs are only explored in the confines of our physical life. And only when we choose."

"I like that. All of that."

Their eyes held, and she wondered if he saw her one fear.

"And the pain?" Sansa wasn't an idiot- she knew that pain was often part of the equation in these types of relationships.

He shook his head.

"I am not into inflicting pain, Sansa. Not unnecessarily and not to mark you or hurt you. I am not a man that 'gets off' on pain. But I will not deny that sometimes there are moments when some a little pain can enhance your pleasure – a flogger can do incredible damage, but it can also unlock something inside of you if wielded correctly."

She was quiet for a time, as she snuggled deeper into his embrace. She knew they had to go back to the house, or else they'd end up drenched. But it felt special here, in this moment, just the two of them against this incredible backdrop.

"I've read lots of books, Stannis, on this subject – some of them got it right, while others were just ridiculous. There are some things I know I'm not interested in. I don't want to be part of a threesome, ever. I don't want to be scarred. I don't want blood. I'm not sure about some of the more extremes of this … lifestyle."

Her breath hitched, and she gripped his knee with her hand, their eyes locked.

"I don't share. I don't want to be whipped, and I don't want to be humiliated."

"Oh, Sansa. No, never," he agreed readily. Those things held no appeal for him either.

"But," she said, biting her lip. "I do like it when you are in control. I like a bit of pain. I like having my butt smacked," she said, blushing bright red. She wondered if he'd think her too innocent for the likes of him.

"Do we need a safe word?" she asked suddenly.

He chuckled softly.

"No, my darling, we do not. Safewords are not all that safe. I much prefer a system called Red, Yellow, Green. Before we enter into doing something new, I ask how you feel about it. Green means you have no reservations; you are good with that act. Yellow, as you can imagine, means we both need to proceed with caution. We are interested, but perhaps not quite sure, and something might change during the act that means we'd have to stop. And red, well red means definitely not. At any time, even during an action, it can become red, which would mean we would cease immediately. It is an easy system to remember, and everyone knows what the words mean - even if you are deep into a scene, you can express yourself this way. Even saying yellow, might mean we slow things down, proceed with caution.”

She thought about his words, weighing them. She liked the red-yellow-green system, and she was excited to explore this side with Stannis. But she had one last question that was almost as important as the rest.

"And what if we do nothing more than regular, vanilla sex?" she blurted out and then held her breath for his answer.

His eyes went soft, and he kissed her again.

"Sansa, sex with us will never be regular, nor quite as vanilla as you think, my dear. If we never do more, if we never participate in scenes, if I never blindfold or use ice or wax on this gorgeous body, that is fine. It has to be something we both want."

She let out a relieved breath. It was a perfect answer.

Then he leaned in and sucked that sensitive spot on her neck.

"But I do believe we both want something a little bit more. Tell me, Sansa, what do you want?"

She knew she was at a crossroads. She could say she was happy with how things were and most likely, this relationship would work. Or, she could trust herself and trust Stannis and have what might be a genuinely spectacular relationship – one that exceeded all her wildest fantasies.

She saw the hope in his eyes, but also a wariness as if he were afraid she might reject him. He'd been so open with her, explaining things. Gods, she wondered if anyone had truly loved this man. He seemed as lonely as she was, and at that moment, she knew she could trust him with everything.

Her life.

Her dreams.

Her deepest, darkest desires.

"I want –everything, Stannis. I want to explore this heat that is between us. I want to be together – for real."

She saw the relief in his eyes, and for a moment, his shoulders sagged before he dragged her onto his lap. "Gods, woman, you drive me mad in the best possible way."

Sansa laughed as she was squished against his muscular chest.

"Mine," he was muttering as he peppered kisses along her neck, a possessive little growl that did exciting things to her lady parts.

Oh yeah, she was his, and he was hers.

Smart.

Loyal.

Sexy as hell.

This man ticked every single box for her, and then some.

"Take me home," she whispered into his ear before biting the lobe, then shrieked as the first fat raindrop hit her cheek.

Standing with her still in his arms, he carried her back across the beach as the rain pelted them. Finally, when they came to the little pathway, he put her down. They were soaked, drenched through, but there was a freedom, a giddiness to them both.

"I can't believe I found you," he said, looking at her in awe.

Since she felt the same way, she swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"And I can't believe you want me."

Shaking his head at her, as if she were crazy, he grabbed her hand and then dashed them both towards the stairs, insisting she started climbing first.

"You just want to stare at my ass," she retorted, and he chuckled.

"God damn right I do."

Loving it, fearing she was already falling in love with him, she sent him a cheeky grin and then began to climb, knowing that she'd found something special, and excited to see what this incredible man had in store for them, and looking forward to what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> Yes, this has been lovely, and while they will have a few more days at Rain House there are serious questions that need answering!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis and Sansa learn more about one another, she tours the inside of the house, and they begin to dive into who wants her dead

* * *

_ Rain House: Sunday afternoon – Sansa _

After they climbed the endless stairs back to the house, they slipped inside and took off their wet gear, hanging it in the mudroom.

"Can you add wood to the fire while I start lunch?" Stannis asked, clearly remembering how Sansa said she didn't cook and relied almost solely on take out.

"You bet," she said and watched him disappear into the kitchen while she went to the great room. The rain, which had been misty and almost romantic when they were on the beach, now pounded at the windows with a ferocity that made Sansa glad she was inside to watch nature's fury.

She added some wood to the fireplace, and watched it crackle and pop, momentarily mesmerized by the sight, before she shut the door and padded over to the kitchen.

Always aware of his surroundings, Stannis turned his head and acknowledged her presence as she climbed onto a stool at the huge island.

"And objections to the classic tomato soup and grilled cheese?" he asked.

Sansa smiled and shook her head. "Nope." It was the perfect rainy Sunday lunch.

_Why had she never realized how sexy a man was when he was cooking for her?_

Stannis's movements were precise, economical and somehow almost graceful, a man that was comfortable in his own domain. That sweet ache between her legs intensified, watching him in his kitchen.

Soon enough, the smell of sizzling butter and creamy tomatoes filled the space while they discussed anything BUT the giant elephant in the room. As if by some unspoken agreement, they gave themselves one more hour of just being Stannis and Sansa. 

She learned he was an avid swimmer, a talented piano player and a man who adored old black and white films.

She shared with him how she wanted a dog one day and how she liked to run through King's Landing parks when she had time, and for fun, she lost herself in cheesy reality TV.

It didn't seem to matter much that they didn't have everything in common. They both confessed they liked being at home, were avid readers, and that they enjoyed the outdoors. That, coupled with the fantastic sex, was a solid foundation in Sansa's mind and far more than she'd had with any other man.

Stannis spoke of Shireen again, his fatherly pride in her evident, as well as how much he seemed to enjoy his daughter. He shared how they both liked hiking and some of the more challenging trails that they had tackled. All of it just made Sansa like Stannis even more. The man was such a curious mix of strong and oddly vulnerable when it came to those few things he held dear.

Since he cooked, Sansa insisted on cleaning up, and when she'd put the last dish in the washer, she turned to find Bodyguard!Stannis waiting for her.

The change in him was incredible.

Gone was the sexy, strong man that had rocked her world and then begun to open himself up to her. In his place was the highly competent ex-military security man whose mission was to keep her safe.

Sansa's respect for the man grew exponentially, seeing him like this. She felt safe with him.

"I'm glad we saved the tour of the inside of the house until this afternoon. There are some features that you will need to know about that could mean the difference between your survival and your death."

Blunt.

To the point.

No sugar coating in sight.

She appreciated the _hell_ out of Stannis Baratheon right now.

Sansa straightened her spine and nodded, her eyes never leaving his. She knew how serious this was – how much danger she was in. This part of their lives was not a game. This had nothing to do with the dom/sub talk they’d had a few hours ago on Stannis’s private beath. This was literally, life and death.

"Show me," was all she said, her voice strong and her hands steady.

She had always known that her chosen career would mean she would make enemies. She'd learned early on to develop a thick skin and not to be easily offended.

It had started in high school, when she'd quit the cheerleading squad in favour of reviving the school newspaper, much to her mother's dismay and her father's joy. Of course, the popular girls hadn't understood her choice, and Sansa had endured half a year from hell, being labelled a nerd and a narc.

With powerful strides, Stannis guided her through the house and its unique features – multiple pantries well stocked with food, a second cistern with reserves of water, a solar-powered backup system and a generator and two different non-traditional escape routes. Including one that would have her climb up a hidden ladder and onto the roof, and then down into a hidden garage where another vehicle waited and she could escape.

It was slightly daunting and completely impressive.

"I do not expect my home to be breached, and I have extensive security monitoring the property. But I always plan for the worst-case scenarios."

Sansa wanted to reach for him, to perhaps offer him comfort at that statement. She knew it came from the betrayal of his best friend and perhaps things he’d seen in his line of work.

Instead, she kept her hands to herself and said in a short voice, "Better safe than sorry."

The quick smile he flashed her, showed the sheer _relief_ that she understood him. She knew the pain of his past, knew that he had a reason to be this way. That smile spoke volumes. That smile was something just for her.

The tour continued as Sansa was wowed by the house that Stannis had built. She saw his tastes everywhere and was secretly pleased that they seemed to match hers. There were four additional bedrooms, two bathrooms, a games room, a media room and a wine cellar. Stannis also had an impressive office that rivalled the one at the penthouse.

Sansa had heard her father discussing Robert and his reliance on the Lannister wealth at more than one dinner with her family. Her father had never understood how Robert seemed to be so attracted to the wealthy and the powerful.

Sansa got the impression that Stannis had accumulated his wealth all on his own. That he was reliant on only himself for what he had. And what he had was impressive as fuck.

Wealth in and of itself didn't turn Sansa on. It was what a person did with said wealth that intrigued her. 

She'd met more than one rich person that was a scumbag or an asshole.

But this? Seeing what Stannis had built? It was different. The man was not a braggart, but he was confident. And it showed in his choices and his lifestyle. It was understated elegance, and the man wore it well. Gods, did he wear it well. Sansa had never been so attracted to another person in her entire life.

Seeing Stannis's office reminded Sansa that she'd been MIA from work for almost forty-eight hours. It made her twitchy, and she longed to get into the new laptop Stannis had procured for her and start to work. To search and dig and find out who the hell was coming after her.

As if the man read her mind, he chuckled softly.

"Soon enough. I have one more thing to show you."

He held out his hand, and by the gravitas of his voice, Sansa knew this was something he held close to his chest. Taking his hand, he guided her closer to a wall in his study, which upon closer inspection had a small, discreet panel on it.

"It’s voice and retina activated. We will program it so it will open for you."

Swallowing hard, Sansa could only nod as Stannis gave the command. She felt like she was in some sort of spy movie. Only it wasn't a movie, and the consequences were very real and very deadly.

A door swung open to reveal a veritable treasure trove of weapons of all shapes and sizes. Sansa had been around guns her whole life – her entire family hunted, and she hadn't been lying to Stannis when she said she could shoot. But she’d never seen anything like this.

Sansa knew that everything he owned, Stannis would have permits for, and he had legally obtained it. The man followed the law to the letter.

So while Sansa wasn't squeamish around guns, wasn't one of those women that didn't understand their place, who thought no private citizen should own one, she couldn't say that seeing the sheer firepower that Stannis had at his disposal made her entirely comfortable. It was … overwhelming.

He plucked a SIG P238 from the case and handed it to her. It was sleek, black and was one of the lightest handguns around.

"It holds ten rounds, is easily concealable and packs enough of a punch that should you have to use it, it will buy you some time to escape."

There was a part of Sansa that wanted to protest. _Wasn't it his job to keep her safe?_

But she was practical and logical enough to understand why Stannis wanted her to have a gun.

It was just in case. Just in case her couldn't do his job. Just in case something happened to him. And she knew something catastrophic would have to happen to him for her to use this weapon.

She took it, hand steady and nodded. Then she expertly checked the chamber, slid out the magazine, and, seeing that it was empty, flicked the safety. She saw the admiration in his eyes for how she was handling this entire situation, and it warmed something inside her.

She wasn't no shrinking violet. She would not be patted on the head and told to wait in the wings while the menfolk figured this out.

This was her life, her story and her freedom at stake.

"Aim for the face if you can. Armour doesn't extend there. We will practice," he stated, his tone broking no argument, so she nodded. It made sense. Be prepared. Be ready. Be safe.

"The more comfortable you are with it, the better. And if it all goes to shit, you'll have more choices here. Some of these are … extreme," Stannis said, frowning at his collection.

At that, her lips quirked.

"I'll say, James Bond. Do I get a watch that turns into a grenade? Oh! Tell me the Bugatti secretly has machine guns in the lights."

He flicked her nose, his lips quirking. "Funny girl."

Cocking her head, she studied him. "I get it. I get what you're doing. And why. Thank you."

He gave a small jerk of his head. "Your safety is paramount."

With that, he walked her through the gun again, and then they loaded it. She made sure the safety was on, and somehow the man produced a shoulder harness for her.

When she arched an eyebrow at that, he said, "We're not in some fucking action movie. A harness is sensible and safe."

Grinning, she took both gun and harness as he programmed her eyes and voice into his fancy little system.

"You now have control of the house, as much as I do."

Sansa wondered if he understood what a monumental step that was, but she didn't bring attention to it, instead, giving a quick, "Thanks."

By now, night had fallen, and she was hungry again. And almost angsty to log into her computer. As if he realized he'd delayed the inevitable for as long as he could, Stannis sighed, reached for her hand and guided them back to the kitchen/great room area.

Sansa knew his reluctance wasn't that he didn't respect her intellect, drive, or job. He just wanted to keep her safe. But she would never be safe until she dug out the truth – no matter how bad or rotten.

When they got to the kitchen, she grabbed a stool while he went to the fridge, pulling out steak, vegetables and noodles.

"Stir fry, alright?" he asked, that deep voice doing something to her.

She didn't answer, forcing him to look at her, eyebrow arched.

"Thank you," she said, adding nothing more. He held her gaze, then gave a slow nod. "And yeah, stir fry is fine."

He gave here another lingering look, before he nodded and then gestured for her to join him, a slight curve to his lips.

"I know you say you're horrid in the kitchen, but any reason you can cut and peel?"

Grinning now, and knowing that Stannis would be by her side through this entire mess, she bumped his hip and sent him a saucy little smile.

"Nope."

With that, they settled into a comfortable rhythm in the kitchen while night fell, and for a moment, everything in their world was good. They were safe, they were together, and Stannis had taken steps to protect her even more.

The next few hours would be tough – on both of them. But it was what they needed to do if they ever wanted a future together. And more and more, that was what Sansa wanted. A chance to be safe and to explore a future with the very intriguing and very alluring Stannis Baratheon.

* * *

_ Rain House: Sunday Night – Stannis _

Dinner had been lovely – a perfect interlude between the seriousness of Stannis showing Sansa how to escape his home should it ever be under attack and arming her so she could protect herself if the worst were to happen. He was a serious man, and while he knew he was good at what he did, perhaps the best in Westeros, he would not allow his arrogance to put her at risk.

He'd been pleased when she hadn't quivered or shuddered or protested. He could see her mind racing, a million questions when he'd shown her just one of his weapons caches. There were all legally purchased and registered to him. Stannis did not do things above the law, and he had extensive contacts in the military and several police forces throughout Westeros that ensured he could be well armed – legally. In terms of the security business, Stannis understood his name was golden.

But once dinner was cleaned and the dished stored away, he saw Sansa practically vibrate with need.

And not sexual need. The need to do her job.

She was eager to dive back into her story – to dig and search and uncover the truth. He respected the hell out of the woman that she was. Far too many in his mind would be content to sit on their arse and let someone else figure out their problems. Not Sansa Stark.

It was a turn on. But then everything about her was a turn on. The way she hiked her tight ass up his stairs. How she handled the small gun.

Even how she understood the importance of his … gestures. In the past, women had often called him cold. Remote. Unfeeling. That wasn't the case at all. But Stannis preferred actions over words. He wasn’t an easy man. But Sansa seemed to understand that about him, and more importantly, accept it.

By now, night had fallen, the rain a deluge against the windows as prevalent as ever. Stannis thought about asking her if the rain bothered her, but that would get this conversation off on the wrong foot. Now was not the time for personal observations or small talk. Now was the time for work.

"Where would you like to do this?" he asked her.

They'd drank water during dinner, both of them keeping their wits, and now each had a coffee in their hands. It was yet another thing in which Stannis liked about Sansa. She wasn't… sloppy. She took things seriously. This wasn’t a lark or a vacation.

"The great room. I figure first thing I need is to see what the new stories are saying about my house and me and then log into my work email."

Stannis frowned.

"Won't that alert them to the fact that you are alive?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I trust the three people I work with, Stannis."

It was a fine line, and one he knew well. Not everyone was an enemy. Not everyone was out to harm her.

He might be hyper-aware of her safety, but she also had a job to do. She had to start somewhere.

"Let's start with the news stories," she said softly. When he finally gave a short nod, she raced from the Great Room and up the stairs to retrieve her new laptop.

Stannis allowed himself a single moment to rub his tired eyes and get himself together. She needed him at his absolute best. His … _feelings_ for her could not interfere in keeping her safe. That was paramount. That was what he had to remind himself.

When she came back down, he felt his professional demeanour settle into place. She noted the change, nodded, and opened the laptop.

Her fingers flew over the keys, and soon enough, she was scanning the local police beat and the online newspaper.

"Fuck, Oberyn covered my house," she said in a pained gasp. She glanced at him and then shrugged when he said nothing.

"He's my boss. He's true blue when it comes to exposing the truth. He's a man I look up to. And I can hear how hard this was for him in his story. This sucks. I'm listed as missing and presumed dead while the arson investigator combs through the wreckage of my home."

"Perhaps that is best. It buys us time, Sansa," was all he said, knowing he sounded cold.

"But they are my colleagues, and they think I'm dead. And my family!" she cried, spiralling. He’d seen it often enough, in the military or with clients, when something got overwhelming.

"Sansa, stop!" His voice commanded.

He watched her startled and then sucked in a deep breath. And then another. And another, until she was back in control. He was proud of her, but didn’t say that.

"Be logical," he continued in the same commanding tone.

There was a part of Stannis that longed to reach for her – to offer her some comfort. But he knew he could not cross that line at this moment. Right now, he was here in the capacity of her security protection. Later, he'd be her lover. Later he could hold her, stroke her, make her fly apart underneath him. Later he could chase away all of this unpleasantness. But for now, they had a job to do.

Stannis watched the anger in her eyes that he'd spoken to her in such a manner. But her spine stiffened, and she pursed her lips.

"Logically, my father and my sister will tell my family I am safe."

He wanted to cheer but instead only jerked his head in agreement. He watched her eyes take on a faraway look and knew her mind was racing.

"I need the work cloud. All my stuff is there. If someone at work betrayed me, well, they already could have hacked it. And I need to trust someone. Not the police in King's Landing, but I do trust Oberyn, Sandor and Pod."

While Stannis didn't like it – it made sense.

"Good."

She whipped her head towards him, eyes flashing. He saw the anger there, the slight hurt. The confusion.

"I thought we agreed the dom stuff stopped at the bedroom."

"That wasn't me being your dom. That was me being your protective detail."

She bit her lip as if to hold back from saying more, and Stannis knew they would have to discuss this in far more detail at some point. Their lives were careening into one another on so many levels, and it was messy with the added kink they both shared. They were two people that were wholly dedicated to their careers and used to being alone. There were bound to be some growing pains.

"I'm logging into work now," she told him, a bite to her words as if she were daring him to argue with her.

Oh, gods, she did something to him when she was acting bratty. Made him want to take her over his knees and swat that lovely arse of hers, see it pink up with his hand, then reach beneath to see how wet she was. Lost in that fantasy, he was brought back to reality with her gasp.

"They don't believe the police," she said, all but shoving her laptop in his face.

An email from this boss of hers, Oberyn, stating he didn't for one second think she was dead.

_Whatever it is you've stumbled upon, it's big, Sansa. I hope you realize you can trust us. Whatever you need, we have your back. Stay safe and keep digging. And let us know what you need._

He saw the relief in her face and knew there would be no dissuading her from trusting those she worked with. He handed her back her laptop and watched as she worked her way through the rest of the stories about her house. It had been a slow news weekend, so even now, those stories were still generating hits on Sunday night.

"The police say they'll have a report tomorrow, which will shed more light on this mystery," she said, a bitter bite to her words. Stannis didn't blame her. Someone had fucked with her entire world. Upended it spectacularly and tried to murder her.

"Do you have a reason not to trust the police in King's Landing?" he asked, wanting her to work through things instead of focussing on things she couldn't change or fix.

She bit that bottom lip, plumping it up and making his cock ache. Gods, everything about her turned him on – even her temper. He liked the fire in her eyes, the fight she had. Her spirit! And knowing this was who she was, her submission in the bedroom was that much sweeter. He wanted to be that man that could show her how good it could be – for both of them.

"I mean, there is the obvious," she said, pulling him from another one of his fantasies, with her on her knees, her lips around him as his hands were in her hair, him feeding his cock into that pretty mouth. He shook his head. Gods, he was losing it!

She's curled her long legs up underneath her and cradled her coffee in her hand.

"Obvious?" he asked, sounding like an idiot which he hated.

She gave him a look that said he was slow. Perhaps he was. He blamed her. She did something to him.

"Jaime Lannister."

The lightbulb went on.

"Ahh. Yes."

She frowned. "He's your brother in law. So tell me, is Jaime a dirty cop?"

Stannis cocked his head as he looked at her.

"Why are you asking me?"

Stannis held her gaze and saw that she wasn't asking for lip service. She valued his opinion. His insights.

Onto something now, she leaned forward, putting her coffee cup down. He wondered if this was what she always looked like when she tugged at a thread in a story, this fire in her eyes, this need to know the truth. There was no denying she was a hell of a reporter and Stannis appreciated those who were good at their jobs.

"You did this, Stannis. Your job was evaluating people. Deciding in the one or two moments, you had to observe them if they were good or bad, if they lived or died. Lives depended upon your gut, your instincts, your call."

She was half right. Often, he had intel to back up his observations, and they tracked targets for weeks and even months before they took someone out or made a move. It wasn't all quite as movie-esque as she made it sound, but the principle held.

He did make his career on reading people.

"Jaime Lannister was an arrogant, rich playboy, who was born into the wealthiest family in Westeros, and he knew it. He disdained authority, was an unapologetic snob and wore his superiority with ease," Stannis said.

Sansa's eyes blazed brightly. "But."

"Clever girl," he murmured, watching her preen under his compliment. She liked praise, which was something he filed away for later.

"But all of that changed six years ago." Stannis held up a hand before she could ask. "I do not know why, nor have I looked too deeply into that issue. All I know is that the Jaime that is now a detective in King's Landing was not the same Jaime when Robert married Cersei."

Her smile was everything as she gave a little shout of glee!

"I fucking knew it. There are assholes on the force. Dirty cops, I'm sure. Blount, Trant, Moore and the two Kettleback brothers. But others? Jaime and his partner Bronn? Their boss Arthur? Even the DA, Selmy. Those guys? I don't get that vibe. Nothing I've ever run across says that they are dirty."

On a roll now, she was talking with her hands, making gestures, her mind racing. It was fascinating to watch.

"I know Robert is involved, which means Cersei knows something. Because that women is hella scary and no way she lets Robert the Buffoon stumble into this by himself. The question is, how much does Tywin know? This doesn't seem like his style at all."

By now, she'd made it to her feet and was pacing while he just sat back and watched her, fascinated and delighted by her.

"There have been rumours for ages that the Old Lion was pissed at some of his casino owners, but I didn't think anything of it. What I need is the financials of the Boltons and the Greyjoys. That will tell me more. Or give me a place to start."

For some time, this went on more, as she spoke, typed, muttered to herself, and cursed. Eventually, the hour grew late, and Stannis finally rested a hand on her shoulder. Her head whipped around to his, and she looked started as if she'd forgotten he was there. He wasn't offended – she was in work mode.

"It's enough for tonight," he said.

She went to protest, but he cut that off with a kiss – something he'd been longing to do for hours now. Gods, it felt like a lifetime ago that they'd been on the beach, talking about their sexual preference.

"Your mind needs rest. We have time," he told her when he finally released her lips.

She sighed and nodded and powered everything down.

"I'll deal with the coffee cups," she said, rising gracefully.

"I need to do a perimeter check," he told her. While he had the very best security, he still trusted his own eyes above all else.

She paused, swallowed hard and then nodded. "Alright."

He left her standing there in the great room, slightly dazed. He was efficient, but it still took forty minutes to do the check he wanted. When he slipped inside the mudroom, he noted the all the lights were out except for the one above the stove. He padded quietly up the stairs and into his bedroom, pausing.

She'd left his bedside lamp on but was curled up in the middle of the bed, sound asleep.

Stannis couldn't remember the last time anyone had left a light on for him – let alone two. And Davos didn't count.

Quickly he took care of his nightly absolutions and then, naked, strode through his bedroom, turning off his light, checking that his weapon was close and then sliding into bed. She was warm and, as if sensing him, she snuggled closer, her ass against his dick, her back to his chest as his arms cradled her close.

He could wake her. He knew that.

He could wake her with his tongue buried deep inside of her quim, making her come the moment she woke.

He could stroke his fingers through her wetness, finding her clit and making her break apart against his fingers.

He could sink his cock inside her, sure she would respond.

He could do any of those things. But he did not.

Because this? Sansa subconsciously seeking him out? Fitting herself into his arms?

Well, this was enough. It was more than enough.

Never a man that was good with meaningful gestures, Stannis leaned down and gently pressed his lips to her forehead and then tightened his arms around her.

Only then did he allow sleep to claim him as the rain battered the house, a direct contrast to the peace that now invaded Stannis Baratheon's heart.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> These two begin to dig deeper, and open up to one another more!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More about the ‘investigation’ into the bombing of her house, and plans are beginning to be formed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note - this one delves more into their desires so heads up for the first part of the chapter

* * *

_ Rain House: Monday Morning – Sansa _

She woke to the light pouring through the windows of the master bedroom of Stannis's impressive house in the Stormlands, her lover's arms wrapped tight around her. It wasn't sunlight but the gauzy grey of a cloudy day; the relentless rain was now gone, replaced by that ethereal mist that seemed to cling to the ancient trees that dwarfed Stannis's house. It was truly a one of a kind setting and Sansa doubted there was a master bedroom to match this one in all of Westeros.

Sansa had never been much for cuddling. Or maybe she just hadn't experienced the right kind of cuddler. It wasn't like she had a lot of experience with men and a wealth of knowledge when it came to relationships to draw upon. She was decidedly not good at being with someone else – at making time for them and giving up space in her busy life. She’d focused on her career when she realized that the men, she dated couldn’t give her what she needed.

So she probably couldn't say with certainty one way or another if she was a cuddler or not.

But this? With Stannis?

Well, this was delightful!

She lay still, looking at the strong arms and hands that held her close. The man had gorgeous hands, which wasn't something Sansa had ever thought about in terms of the males of the species and what she found sexy. She'd seen his grand piano at the and penthouse and the smaller one here and imagined him playing for her one night. His long, elegant fingers seemed to lend itself perfectly to such a pursuit. She was tone deaf and had always taken extra academic courses to avoid band or anything to do with music, although she enjoyed listening to it on her iPhone.

She also knew first-hand what those hands could do. Both the pleasure they could bring and the violence they could deal out. What did it say about her that she found both sides equally appealing?

Maybe it was just the reality of the world they lived in. Her mother wanted to wrap her in cotton wool and make her the perfect wife for a perfect politician. But there were no perfect people and certainly not a perfect world. Sansa preferred the realism of the job she did, the people who were her friends and the man whose arms she was now in.

Sansa figured that when a man like Stannis committed – he did so entirely. He didn't tuck tail and run when things got hard, or messy or complicated. He stood. He dug in.

Which was good because she was getting the feeling that things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got better. Especially when it came to Robert's involvement in this mess that they were both now tangled up in. Despite what Stannis might say or think about his brother, family was family. It would be very difficult if Robert was neck deep in this shit.

She'd been a bit peeved at Stannis last night when he'd talked to her – no, _commanded_ her to be logical. But in the end, it was precisely what she had needed, and the less emotional part of Sansa had been able to gather her thoughts coherently so that today she knew she'd hit the ground running.

There were so many threads she could tug, and the moment she got out of bed and going, she would do just that. Starting with telling her colleagues that she was alive. She understood the risk – but she trusted them.

"Does your brain ever shut off?"

The rumbled question came with a brush of his lips across the delicate shell of her ear, and instantly, her body coiled in anticipation of his next touch.

Those hands that had been holding her now caressed her body, one cupping a breast while the other stroked down her stomach.

She was grinning but refused to look at him, preferring to be a bit bratty this morning. She'd seen his eyes glaze over more than once last night when she'd given him a bit of attitude. Sansa was observant as could be, and she knew that the idea of 'punishing' her appealed to Stannis. And boy oh boy did it appeal to her.

"Nope," she said, popping the p, grinding her butt into him, enjoying the growl that he let loose as he flicked a nipple that instantly budded under his touch.

"You like being naughty, don't you?" he purred into her ear.

Sansa could only nod, as the man had scissored her legs, opening her up to him, somehow having all the control. She was drenched, her thighs slick and her clit aching. Gods, this was what she'd wanted – what she'd _craved._

She knew they were at the tip of the proverbial iceberg when it came to exploring their desires (nipple clamps and restraints and wax - and that was just the start). Sure they’d had the talk yesterday and both had been honest with what they wanted and set their hard limits. But all of the in-between? That was to be determined.

Still, the way Stannis handled her, the way he seemed to read her mind, seemed to know what she wanted, what she needed, it was enough.

Gods, it was more than enough. The sex with Stannis was quite simply the best she'd ever had, and Sansa was a firm believer that sex only got better between a couple the more they learned about one another.

"I like being naughty for you," she answered in a breathless sigh that was nothing short of the gods' honest truth.

She loved being naughty for him. She loved knowing that this behaviour wouldn't be 'tolerated' and that she wasn't in charge inside the bedroom. It freed her mind to focus on what Stannis was doing to her - what he demanded from her.

"Well, I should reward you for your honestly," he murmured, although the subtext of that sentence left her to wonder if he would.

Because _should_ wasn't the same as _would_. Would he reward her? She desperately wanted a reward. And one that he thought she deserved.

She whined and bucked back, seeking to top him from the bottom. A part of Sansa wanted to demand he put his hands on her mound, to stroke and touch her – to give her some relief to this ache between her thighs.

His dark laughter made her realize that she was in no way in charge of this exchange, which heated her blood even more, and drove that pressing need, she had for him higher and higher.

"Naughty, naughty girl. Up on all fours," he said, the command unmistakable.

Eager and needing this, needing him, Sansa scrambled to comply. She'd had sex like this before, of course. She wasn't a virgin – she'd had boyfriends. She was twenty-six for gods sake!

But presenting herself like to this Stannis? Not knowing what he might do?

She'd never done anything like this.

She was almost quivering in anticipation.

"Head down," he commanded. "I want to spank you. Only five this morning, and not to punish. Just to see how much you enjoy it. To see my handprint on that fabulous ass of yours."

Sansa fucking whimpered. That sounded divine!

"Red, yellow or green," he asked, and for a moment, Sansa couldn't think.

Why wasn't the man touching her? Why was he asking her questions about colours?

Her ass was in the air, her head was down, and she was waiting for him to do what he'd promised. Then she got it.

"Green. Green, green, GREEN!" she told him, hoping he hadn't changed her mind in the time it took her brain to work. She heard him chuckle, pleased with her reaction. Gods, she liked pleasing him.

He caressed her ass, both cheeks, and she knew he was gazing at her. There was no hiding anything when she was like this. There was no way the man couldn't see everything she had to offer. But she didn't care. She just wanted more. More of him, more of this. Just more!

Suddenly, and without warning, his hand, that beautiful, sexy hand, landed on her left cheek. As promised, it wasn't to hurt her – the sting barely recognizable as a hurt. It was just heat and … something more. Something that allowed that ache to blossom inside of her.

Stannis brought his hand down with intent – and the picture that she must have made, made her moan.

She loved this!

"Count," he demanded.

"One," she said, hardly recognizing her own voice, helpless to do anything but comply with his demand.

The second blow landed on her other cheek, higher up, and she knew he wouldn't mark her in the same spot twice.

"Two," she said, sinking into a glorious headspace where she felt absolutely worshipped by this man.

"Gods, you pink up so pretty," he muttered, delivering the next three blows relatively quickly as if he too were holding on by the tiniest of margins.

Sansa could smell herself, knew she was an utter mess down there. She could feel how engorged she was. And even after the fifth blow landed and her voice faded with the count, she held still. She knew this would please him, and right now, that was driving her pleasure as much as the act itself. Pleasing Stannis.

"I need to fuck you, hard," he said, voice almost guttural.

Sansa wiggled her ass, which still felt warm from his hand, and finally opened her eyes, flashing him a coy smile.

"Yes, please."

Stannis was standing at the edge of the bed, gloriously naked, all that male flesh on display, coiled as if he were ready to pounce.

Their eyes locked.

"I won't go easy on you."

Was that a threat or a promise? She hoped it was a promise.

"Green," was all she said and watched the man spring into action.

His body was on top of hers in a second; his chest draped across her back as his lips found her neck, sucking and kissing, licking and nipping. His hand was parting her, rubbing her as his cock, that delightfully thick cock, nudged her.

"What you do to me," was all he managed to say, as he opened her fingers of her clenched fist. Stannis locked their hands and then surged inside her in one mighty thrust.

Sansa swore she saw stars as he filled her – big and relentless and touching places inside of her she had no idea previously existed. The man was sinful with his movements, as he withdrew and thrust again, unremitting with his pace. It was as promised - hard and constant and everything she needed.

She glanced down, seeing their fingers intertwined, both of them here for this. And that, more than anything, had her letting loose the moan, bucking to meet each punishing thrust, loving how he spun her up in a world of wanton desire, giving her no place to hide from what she needed. No man had ever understood her like he did. 

They were slicked with sweat and panting hard when Sansa felt that delicious coil in her core begin to pulse.

"That it. Squeeze me," he whispered into her ear, and Sansa was helpless to do anything but obey him, clamping down on him, trying to keep him inside of her.

"Squeeze me as I fill you," he grunted, released her hand so that he could reach between their drenched bodies to rub her.

Sansa closed her eyes tight and let everything she felt coalesce inside of her until she detonated and went off. She had no idea if they came at the same time, but she felt him release inside of her, pulse after pulse, as he bucked and emptied against her womb. There was no disguising the utter mess they were, both of them soaked and sweaty and covered in each other, as it all leaked around their still joined bodies.

Funnily enough, Sansa didn't care one bit. She had a blissed-out smile on her face; her eyes half shut as she felt Stannis press soft kisses to her cheeks and then her eyelids and finally her lips. She smiled against his lips and heard his warm chuckle, the care evident in his gentle touches, so at odds to the wild sex they’d just had.

The canoodling lasted all of two minutes before the man finally pulled himself off of her and then tugged her by the ankles, as her eyes finally opened fully, drinking him in. There was no mistaking how pleased he was with himself.

"Come on, lazy. We need a shower, coffee and then a walk on the beach."

She grumbled a bit, but it honestly all sounded so perfect. She flipped over, felt the gush from down there, and smirked as his hazel eyes darkened once more as he looked at her. His cock bobbed in a half-hearted attempt to have another go.

"You're dangerous," he muttered before he reached for her once more, scooping her up into his arms and striding across the room to the divine master bathroom. While in his arms, she nuzzled at his neck, peppering it with kisses as he cradled her closer.

"Best wake-up ever," she told him happily.

His smile was one of a man that had supreme confidence in his abilities to keep her happy. And damn if she didn't want more of that. More of all of this. Whatever the hell this might be. Content in a way that she’d never felt before, Sansa gave a happy sigh.

* * *

_ Later Monday Morning – Stannis _

Stannis sipped coffee as he observed Sansa, who had her laptop on the kitchen island, a notebook filled with her scribbles at her elbow and a frown on her face. She had one leg dangling, and another tucked up beneath her. He had no idea how she was comfortable, seated as she was, but she appeared wholly unconcerned, so he said nothing.

As promised, they'd showered, made a quick breakfast and then taken a walk on the beach. The updated press conference about her house wasn't scheduled until 10 am, and as much as Stannis knew she was eager to work, the fresh air did wonders for both of them. As did the sex.

Good lord, the sex.

Stannis had hoped, of course, that she would allow herself to explore the desires she had – the desires and needs she'd tentatively expressed to him yesterday.

But she'd blown his mind when she'd sunk into the submissive role in the bedroom this morning as if she'd been doing it for years.

He shifted, feeling himself harden as he recalled images from a few hours ago. How she'd presented herself to him. The pink of her flesh from his hand. Her breathy moans. That sexy smile.

She was everything he'd ever wanted in a lover. Everything and more. Stannis had been satisfied in a way he had never thought possible.

And outside the bedroom?

Her tenacity, her grit, her intelligence?

All of those were qualities that Stannis found attractive. The woman was an absolute marvel. How the hell she was still single was anyone's guess. She'd mentioned that men didn't like her workaholic schedule, that a few said she was intimidating and that she scared them with her big brain. None of that was a turn off to Stannis. The opposite in fact.

She'd also mentioned that the men she'd dated had been 'boring.'

Their loss was Stannis's gain.

He glanced at the clock and saw it was two minutes until ten and watched as she loaded up her news channel's website in anticipation of the press conference from the capital.

Sansa drummed her fingers on the table, tapping her pen and thinking, not even focused on him.

It was fine. He was a man that was used to the quiet.

Stannis spent most of his days in silence, observing those under his care or working alone. Davos ran most of their staff and was good at that part of his job. He was far more personable than Stannis could ever hope to be.

She startled when the live news feed started, and both of them frowned as the police were holding their 'update' outside the burnt-out shell of her house. Because Stannis was focused on her, he saw the pain and shock ripple across her face as she spotted what remained of her house, before she narrowed her eyes, anger replacing the hurt.

Good. She’d need the anger right now. Time enough to mourn what she had lost when she was safe.

For his part, Stannis was furious. It was sensationalism at its worst – an obvious attempt by the police to shock and horrify. The man standing behind the podium was slim, with short red hair. There was a shiny badge pinned to his chest, and he had a sly look about his eyes. A look Stannis neither liked nor trusted.

"Beric Dondarrian," she muttered. "Temporary Chief of Police for King's Landing."

Too late, Stannis recalled hearing that Chief Arryn had been diagnosed with cancer about a year and a half ago. Stannis mostly dealt with his military contacts, so he wasn't as well-versed in the police's ins and outs in King's Landing. But Stannis had learned to rely on his gut, and his gut was telling him that Beric was part of the problem.

"It's too bad about Chief Arryn. He's a good man, and he ran a tight ship. But since he's been gone, the rumours of corruption in the department have only increased," Sansa continued.

Stannis appreciated the broader picture. The more information he had, the better he could make informed decisions.

"Who are those men with him?" Stannis asked about those that flanked the interim Chief. He could quickly look them up, but Stannis often found he learned more when he asked people questions directly.

"The fat one is Boros, the sleazy one is Trant, and the one with the bad combover is a Kettleback," she spat, clearly naming some of the cops she suspected were dirty. "If they are on the case, there is no way the truth will come out."

They were both quiet as they listened to the temporary Chief explain that they did not suspect foul play in the explosion that rocked the quiet residential neighbourhood Friday evening.

At the time he'd rescued her, Stannis had realized how different Sansa's house was from his penthouse, and he wondered what her dreams were, beyond her profession. He could make an educated guess. A woman didn't buy a house like that without wanting a particular type of future.

"Our investigators continue to sift through the wreckage. At this point in time, it appears to be a gas leak, which led to the explosion, although our investigation is still in the early stages."

There was something almost cruel as Chief Beric said his next words, as if he took some sort of perverse glee from them, his smile knowing and his eyes and taunting.

"We know that the homeowner was dropped off at approximately 9:40 pm, but we are unsure if she was inside when the explosion occurred."

Sansa's eyes whipped up to his, panic clear.

"Dickon!"

While Stannis knew she didn't have romantic feelings for her date, Sansa cared for the man she'd been out with. He was already texting Davos, asking if they had contacted him yet because it was clear the police had. They may be corrupt, but they weren't incompetent.

"Ms. Stark remains a person of interest in this case. It is possible she was injured in the blast, perhaps wandering away from the scene."

Her picture flashed up on the screen, with a number to call if she was spotted.

"You don't think she's dead?" a reporter shouted.

"Who could possibly survive that?" Another shouted, pointing to her home. It was a valid point. The house was in ruins. Stannis briefly wondered if anything could be salvaged.

Stannis saw Sansa cringe as the camera panned off the Chief for a moment and into the assembled crowd of reporters.

"Are your colleagues there?"

She nodded.

"That's Oberyn, my boss.”

Sansa pointed to a handsome, dark-haired man, Stannis's age, who looked as enraged as he felt. It was clear that Oberyn Martell did not like the tone or the press conference's spectacle any more than they did.

Chief Dondarrion's smile was anything but reassuring.

"Right now, we do not know the status of Ms. Stark. I repeat, we simply want to talk with Ms. Stark if she did somehow survive the blast. We have questions for her, and she remains a person of interest. We must find her if she is alive."

It almost sounded like a threat, and Stannis had to consciously stop his fists from bunching. Sansa was the victim, but the way the man spoke, it sounded like she somehow orchestrated this entire thing. That she was wanted for questioning. It grated on Stannis's nerves.

Reporters lobbed more questions at the temporary Chief, including if the public was at risk, if there were any signs of foul play, and when the police would know for sure the cause of the blast. While Sansa was glued to the screen, Stannis's phone chimed.

**Davos: The police got to him first. He seemed devastated, and it's clear he knows nothing about her being alive. They let him go, and he headed home to Horn Hill to recover.**

Stannis already knew that Sansa would be upset when she learned that Dickon Tarly thought she was dead. According to the quick search that Stannis had done on him, his social media pages were dedicated to his workouts, modelling shots, and eating. He appeared affable enough and seemed to have no enemies.

The press conference wrapped with another warning/plea for Sansa to contact the police if she were alive.

All of it reeked, and the moment she slammed her laptop down, Stannis saw her eyes blazing, her righteous anger on full display. She was glorious, he thought, a woman whose beauty was only enhanced by her feelings. He was a man that rarely allowed emotions to complicate his life, and yet Sansa seemed to live with her heart on her sleeve.

"They know. They know I'm alive, that I didn't die. But they are playing games. And unless they are complete morons, they have to know it was a bomb and not a gas leak."

Stannis nodded, agreeing with her, as he told her as much. That appeared to take some of the wind out of her sails, but now she was worrying her lip, biting at it.

"Are you sure we can't call my parents?"

"It's for the best, Sansa. Your father knows that you are alive and that this was deliberate. I am sure within hours his camp will be issuing a statement, which again, buys us some time. They are looking for you," Stannis added, somewhat unnecessarily.

"I know," she snapped at him, then closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

It was fascinating to watch her pull herself together again. When her eyes opened, the determination was back.

"What is going on with Dickon?"

He told her what he'd learned from Davos and watched her nod, drumming her pen again, knowing she was formulating a plan.

"Alright. I'm going to email Oberyn and see if I can set up a Zoom call or something."

Stannis gave her a look.

"What?"

He took a deep breath and then said, "I'm just wondering why you refuse to use your greatest resource first?"

There was no mistaking the judgement in his tone, nor the slight condemnation.

Sansa frowned. "I am using my greatest resource. My team, my brain, my research."

Stannis said nothing, picking his next words carefully.

"What do you know about your sister's fiancé?"

Sansa's eyes narrowed. "I know he's great with computers. Some might call him a hacker. Arya just said that Jaq does what’s right."

Stannis snorted and only just held himself back from rolling his eyes.

"The man is not _just_ a hacker, Sansa. He is a myth. A legend. One of the best and one of the deadliest men in the entire world."

Her spine stiffened as if she'd been shocked. "Is my sister in danger?"

"No," Stannis said, shaking his head. He reached for her hand, knowing she needed his reassurance. "By all accounts, the man is in love with her. And with that love comes protection even I do not know that I could match. With him in the North, your family is safe."

There was some relief in her shoulders, but her eyes had questions – questions Stannis knew she wouldn't drop.

"Who is he to you?" she said, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

For a moment, Stannis debated what to tell her. There was so much of his past that was off-limits – either through orders from his superiors or because it was far too dark and awful to share. That was something that Sansa would have to either accept about him or not.

"Stannis, I am not weak not stupid. I know that information can be the difference between life and death."

He gave a curt indication with his head, crossing his arms across his chest, while he leaned back against the counter.

"There are some things I will not share with you."

She didn't like that, but Stannis didn't care.

"My past is not an open book, Sansa, and some of it would put you in greater danger, not less."

He waited, holding his breath to see if she would aquacise to his terms. Only when she notched up her chin in agreement did he speak.

"When we were in Essos, in the far reaches, the truly hellish places, there were rumours of a man. A Faceless Man. A legend. It wasn't just his skills with a computer. It wasn’t just that he could hack any system. It was that he was equally deadly with a gun, a knife, poison or explosives. Sometimes we’d arrive two days after he had been there, and the man left nothing behind but the dead. It was rumoured he never missed a target and that he could become anyone. That he could take on the face of your best friend and you’d never know he was this Jaqen until he slit your throat. The man was a ghost – a ghost that operated under his own moral code and one that we never caught.”

She swallowed hard.

"You're saying my sister is living in a rundown farmhouse with a bunch of adopted farm animals and an assassin?" Her voice sounded high and slightly hysterical.

"Yes."

"A highly trained, deadly assassin."

"Yes," he repeated, his voice firm.

She paled but was steady, and his respect for her grew.

"And before you judge him, there were things that Jaqen did that I did as well. We were – not so different, although all my kills were sanctioned by the government, while we never knew if he was working for himself who hired for certain jobs."

Stannis paused, sighing.

"Hell, sometimes we didn't even know if he was real."

"But he is real," she said quietly. "He's real, and he's in love with my sister. He's engaged to my sister!" Her voice had risen as she assimilated this new information. It wasn’t every day you learned something like this.

Stannis nodded again.

"It appears that way. Notice how even when we spoke with her, Jaqen did not appear on the camera? I believe that was intentional."

Since he'd just dumped a hell of a lot of information on her, Stannis reached for her coffee cup, now cold, to refill it. When he'd done that, he turned back to her, seeing that faraway look in her eyes that meant she was working things out in her head.

Stannis waited.

"You want me to use him. To get him to dig into Roose and Balon and even Tywin. You want me to use his skills to get inside their organization."

She did not sound happy about his suggestion at all, but Stannis did not back down.

"I do."

The anger was quick and fierce at his suggestion – perhaps even more than when she’d seen her house in ruins.

"No."

The look on her face told Stannis he was in for a hell of a fight. It appeared Sansa was stubborn to a fault.

Well, so was he.

"Why?" he demanded.

She was already shaking her head.

"Nothing he gets me will ever be admissible in a court of law. I would never be able to hold those that did this to me to account. And it's my job to do the digging. It's my job to find the pieces and to make them fit. I can't just --- take a shortcut!" she retorted sharply.

Stannis knew she prided herself on her professionalism. He knew this would be crossing a line for her. A big, black line. But they did not have time for her worries about her career should this ever come out. They needed answers. Yesterday. And the fastest way to those answers was through Jaqen Hagar.

"We need to know what we are up against. They have already shown how far they will go to silence you. Now it appears the police are in on it. We do not know who we can trust! What does a court of law matter? Are you that prideful that you wouldn't use whatever resources you have at your disposal?"

His words landed like a blow, but he would not take them back.

Her spine stiffened, and her eyes flashed, dangerously angry now.

"It's the principal, Stannis. I don't take shortcuts. I dig. And I research. I interview, and I make connections. I develop my sources. What you want - - - what you are suggesting goes against everything I've worked my ass off for. It goes against everything I am."

"And if you're dead?" The words were almost painful to say, but he didn't show her how they affected him. The thought of her dead was the stuff of nightmares.

Her eyes narrowed to slits.

"That's not fair."

"It's the truth. They put a bomb in your house, Sansa, and it was only because of someone's arrogance or their twisted need to have you fearful that you aren't dead!" Stannis roared, finally allowing some of what he was feeling to show.

He was a man that rarely lost his temper, but he did so now. She pushed back from the island and shook her head at him when he stepped towards her.

"No. Give me some space," she stated, shutting him out.

They both knew what she was doing. She was pushing him away.

He wondered if she knew how much it stung as she turned and walked out onto his massive deck in the drizzly rain.

Turning away from the image of her standing out on his deck by herself, Stannis gripped the edge of the sink, frustration at the situation threatening to consume him.

His knuckles were white, and he desperately wished that one of those assholes that were out to hurt Sansa was here because there would be something supremely satisfying in sinking his fist into their face.

Stannis rarely allowed himself to care so deeply for people because he knew that people could not be trusted. People betrayed each other. They hurt each other. And they left each other.

Of everyone he'd met, he trusted only Davos and Shireen completely.

But somehow, in short order, Sansa was someone he cared about.

He heard the door open as she stepped back inside, and for a moment, caught the smell of pine and rain and forest.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, allowing the familiar scents to ground him. It was the Stormlands and all their wild beauty and wet wonder that he'd allowed to soothe him when he'd been overseas in some shithole desert, far away from everything he held dear.

He did so now, so when he turned back to Sansa, he was the professional bodyguard he'd promised her he would be, devoid of the emotions he’d shown her.

She had her arms crossed over her chest, her face also a mask. He knew some damage had been done here today and was unsure what he might do to fix it.

But she gave a slow nod, and the relief that crashed through him was palpable.

"Alright. We can contact Jaqen," she said, clearly not happy with his idea but willing to do it. "But only because of the danger I am in. And others. That is it. I won't have him search for more. When I say it's enough, it's enough."

"That is fair," he said.

She nodded again and then gave him an enigmatic look, one he couldn't quite read. All he knew was that it felt like a chasm had suddenly opened up between them, and he was at a loss on how to fix it.

"Give me an hour," she said, and he could only nod, watching her dash upstairs and wondering if, in keeping her safe, Stannis had just lost the woman who might hold the key to his heart.

And even as that depressing thought settled inside him, he knew he'd do nothing differently because his suggestion to use Jaqen might make the difference between her life and death. 

If she hated him? Well, at least she would be alive to hate him. 

It wouldn't be the first time Stannis has sacrificed his personal happiness for the mission, and he doubted it would be the last. All it did was emphasize how poor he was at relationships and that some people could not have it all.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ducks and hides*
> 
> Ok so whew! Lots of high emotions! Keep in mind they haven’t known each other long and they are two very strong willed people that hold their careers in high regard! There were always going to be a few bumps! 
> 
> Up Next:
> 
> They phone North, to talk to Jaqen and more is revealed about those involved in the plot!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Stannis make up and learn more about one another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gathers her thoughts and then meets with Stannis

_ Rain House – Monday afternoon: Sansa  _

As she darted up the stairs, Sansa told herself she wasn't running away from Stannis but strategically retreating to get her frustration under control. She needed the space so that she didn't say something that would add to their argument. She hadn't missed the flash of hurt on Stannis's face, nor the indifferent mask that had settled over his handsome features when she told him to give her some time.

But she stood by her withdrawal, knowing that her temper flashed hot and then burnt out. Sansa was not a grudge holder and couldn't stay mad at anyone for very long. It was better for both of them that she had stepped away. Especially when, deep down, she knew the man was only looking out for her safety.

Once she was in the bedroom, she was able to process what had just happened. And make no mistake, a lot had happened. It had been an intense morning. Hell, since Friday night, things felt like they'd been moving at warp speed – and not just personally, but professionally.

Since the moment Sansa had seen Stannis at the restaurant on Friday night, thinking he was on a date, the man had become the focus of her world. And given the circumstances in which they now found themselves, things felt accelerated.

She knew she felt things for him – she had since the fundraiser a month ago in the North. Stannis had lodged himself in her brain, and nothing in the past few days had done anything to dim her attraction or her enjoyment of being with him.

But it had _only_ been a few days. They still had lots to figure out about one another. Especially when they were basically living together after hardly knowing one another.

Which was why she'd left him downstairs while she took this hour to herself, to gather herself and think through things logically.

Knowing she needed to get it all on paper, she reached for one of her slim black notebooks and her favourite pen. She was never without either.

  1. _Learned that my sister is engaged to some hacker/assassin that even Stannis seems to be wary of_
    1. _Need time to go through the financial records of Bolton and GJ casinos_
    2. _Compare to the Lann ones run in the Westerlands_
    3. _Patterns? Any noticeable changes?_
  2. _Learned that the police chief (interim) is leading the investigation into the bombing of my house_
    1. _No J. Lann or B. Blackw at the press conference – what does that mean????_
    2. _Look into this (police beat)_
    3. _What have they been assigned_
    4. _Oberyn would know – ask him!!!!_
    5. _Police are insisting gas leak, but they have to know it is a bomb – What does that mean?_
  3. _Pull up a list of significant events from the past year – see if R. Bolton, R. Baratheon and B. GJ were at any of them_
  4. _What am I willing to have Jaq look into?_
    1. _I need anything that R. Bolton or B. GJ kept off the records – have their taxes for the past five years, but there has to be more_
    2. _Heard my father talking about R. Bolton's increasing wealth/influence in the North_
    3. _Where are those records?_
  5. _Off-limits – personal correspondences, anything outside of the financials as they relate to the casinos_
  6. _Police beat_
    1. _Run names BOLTON and GREYJOY for the past five years and see what pops – Jaq could do this faster, and it's all above board_
  7. _Contacts?_
    1. _Marg Tyrell – she dated Joff Lann for a time_
    2. _Renly – how does he fit into the Baratheon family_
    3. _Stannis – might not know what he's seen_
  8. _Tywin – how is he involved?_
    1. _Daughter married to Robert – is he playing kingmaker? Does he want R. Bar as president?_
    2. _Jaime is a cop but not in the West_
    3. _Youngest son works for the organization_
    4. _DA in the West – A. Marbrand. A good family friend??? Can he be trusted?_
  9. _The North_
    1. _Who else is R. Bolton close to?_
    2. _What did my father mean by R. Bolton's increasing wealth/status – does he know this for a fact_
    3. _Need to speak to my father!!! ASAP!_



By the time she was done with her list, she felt calmer and like she had a plan. If she limited the scope of information she could get from Jaqen that would hopefully kickstart her investigation and not compromise her journalistic integrity.

She understood that Stannis saw things differently than her on this matter. It came from their priorities.

His number one goal was to keep her safe – by any means necessary.

Her number one goal was to hold those to account for what they had done – to find them and expose them for the world to see. And while those two goals could work in concert with one another, they also created tension points.

Tension points that she knew neither one would willingly back down from. They were both stubborn people, intense and liked to think that they were right.

She was willing to bend, slightly, on using Jaqen, but she had to know that Stannis understood and respected her boundaries regarding how she obtained the information for her stories. She knew that she had to explain herself better, to help him understand her limits regarding her job.

It was similar to their discussion about their desires in the bedroom. She thought if she could get him to realize that she had 'hard limits' when it came to her job, he would be more understanding and accepting.

Sansa also knew that Stannis was a man that prided himself on his ability to do his job – to keep her safe. The man liked to be in charge. He was used to giving the orders. And had been forced to make life or death decisions in the heat of the moment.

Not everyone was like him – protective and strong and willing to do what needed to be done.

It was why she felt safe with him. It was why she trusted him. It was why she liked him.

He was unlike any man she'd ever met, and she found all of those qualities in him highly attractive.

She glanced at her watch as her stomach grumbled, noting it was well past lunchtime, and her hour was up. Feeling far more settled and calmer, she grabbed her notebook and left the bedroom, actively seeking Stannis out.

Sansa found him in his office, concentrating on his computer screen while he gave short, clipped answers to whomever he was on the phone with. It was about another client, and when he saw her, he gave a short nod and then indicated he'd be done in five minutes.

Sansa stepped out of the room to give him privacy, wandering towards the fridge. Her stomach rumbled again, and knowing she was bordering on hangry, she opened the fridge and found all the makings for sandwiches. Sansa could do that.

Ten minutes later, when Stannis joined her, she had two sandwiches made, a bowl of chips out and some sliced apples waiting for them on the counter. She was at one stool on the island, and she was ridiculously pleased when he took the other one, near enough to her that their legs could brush one another should she so choose.

"Thank you for lunch," he said, that deep, gravelly voice doing something to her insides.

Something good. Something that made her panties damp. The man revved her engine like no other, that was for sure.

Sure they'd had a little tiff, but she was positive they could get past it. Her mother would say it was the growing pains part of a relationship – that time at the beginning when you were figuring each other out.

Before he began to eat his lunch, he cleared his throat. Sansa held his gaze – those hazel eyes intense. He was a hard man to read, someone that held his emotions in check. But Sansa did not doubt that there were emotions inside of him. Deep, intense and abiding. There was no way the sex between them would be so good, so hot, so freaking amazing if he didn’t feel things.

"I will not apologize for keeping you safe. I will do so by whatever means necessary. That is non-negotiable," he stated, firmly and with conviction, his voice unassailable.

Sansa took a bite of her sandwich and chewed, thinking over her words before she replied.

"That's fair to a point. But you have to understand that I won't compromise my principles," she told him.

He frowned and leaned forward, closer to her, intense. "I've learned hard lessons about not bending, Sansa."

She understood that there were things in his past that had shaped him, made him into the man he was. There was a reason he was the very best in the business at keeping people safe. She wanted to ask about those events, those people, those things that had such an impact on him, but now was not the time.

"Your word is your covenant," she said, repeating what he'd said to her in his bedroom in the penthouse.

"It is."

Sansa knew that this was a man that didn't make vows loosely. A promise he made was something he held dear – something he would go to the wall to fulfill. This was a man whose word you could trust.

She liked that about Stannis. Liked how he was a man of character, of strength, of principles. She liked that she could trust him and that when he said he'd do something, she could count on him to do it. He wasn't a man that played games, nor did he say what he didn't mean.

"I have my principles, similar to how you have yours," she responded.

Before he could argue, she slid her notebook towards him.

"I do know how to bend. I get that there are grey areas. I do. Eat," she said, gentling her tone, as she rose to clean off her plate, giving him a bit of space.

She was at the sink, rinsing her dishes, when she felt him come up behind her, caging her in, his breath warm on her neck. He put one of his feet between hers, his chest against her back as his hands gripped the counter in front of her. She could feel the man’s body heat against hers, and the shiver of lust that rolled through her body was so overwhelming her knees actually felt weak.

He leaned in closer as she held her breath, wondering what he was going to do. It felt like every nerve ending was firing as she felt his warm breath against her skin --- hovering and holding.

"You matter," he finally murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck, making her shiver. "You matter more than anyone has in a long time."

His words seemed to go straight to her heart, making it feel full in a way it never had before. She mattered to this man!

Sansa reached for his hand, pulling it to her lips, kissing the palm before she turned to look him straight on.

She loved how close he was, how much he cared. He wasn't the most verbally expressive man. With Stannis, it was about his actions – what he did.

She cupped his cheek and stroked.

"It's about give and take, right?"

Stannis nodded and then captured her lips in a searing kiss, carding his hands through her hair as the last dregs of their fight drifted away. They were both breathing heavily, and while Sansa briefly had a thought of Stannis stripping her down and feasting on her right here, she knew she needed to work.

The man seemed to have an uncanny knack at knowing her thoughts because he ended the kiss instead of pushing for more.

"Explain to me your next steps," he said.

Almost giddy that they'd successfully navigated their first mini argument without too much drama, she hopped back on the stool, giving him a look about eating, to which he responded with an arched eyebrow.

"Taking care of me?"

His voice was as playful as she'd ever heard it, but underneath, she recognized what he couldn't or wouldn't say. Not too many people had ever taken care of Stannis Baratheon in his life. Sansa found herself wanting to do it more – in a way that appealed to them both. Stannis wouldn't be a man that would respond to a woman smothering him. But like him, she could show him she cared with her actions.

"I just don't like to see food go to waste," she quipped, both of them knowing it was more than that.

His hand settled over hers, squeezed.

"Thank you," he said and then took a bite of his sandwich while she opened her notebook.

"So, first things first. I want you to take a look at the financials I've pulled from both casinos in Bolton and Greyjoy hands and then compare those with what I've found for the ones in Lannisport, Ashemark and the Golden Tooth. From what I can tell, the Boltons and Greyjoys have outpaced all of Tywin's casinos in the past few years when it comes to staffing and visitors, but on record, the Lannister held casinos are making a greater profit."

Stannis nodded, so she did that first, pulling up the information on her computer and showing him what she'd gathered so far.

"I mean, all of this is public record, and on paper, it looks like things are above board, if slightly mismanaged. But why all the extra staff? Why so many more visitors and yet no profits to show for it? They are moving an incredible amount fo people in and out of these places.”

Stannis hummed as he skimmed her work and gods he looked sexy when he concentrated.

Shaking herself, Sansa continued.

“There have also been reports of late, late-night activity at the casinos on the Iron Islands and the one at Dreadfort. Things that people can't account for- trucks leaving and extra deliveries. And it seems more and more high rollers are going there instead of the flagship casinos in Oldtown, Lannisport and King's Landing. I mean, I get that the Iron Islands has a certain appeal, but the Dreadfort? Trust me; no one really wants to be there. So where are the profits to back up all of this activity?”

Stannis nodded as he focused on the spreadsheets and her neat summaries. She was quiet, letting him process what she’d gathered so far.

"I agree. It looks suspicious. Certainly questionable," Stannis murmured.

"Exactly! But they've legally filed their taxes, and there is nothing there. Or nothing more than their normal profit margins, which are already stupid high.”

Sansa wrinkled her nose. “I just don’t get the appeal of gambling.”

The agreeable smirk on Stannis’s face told Sansa he thought the same. She’d rather spend her money on something tangible.

“So this …. Extra …. This missing piece, well, it’s one of the areas I have agreed to use Jaqen. I need him to see if there is a second set of books. Are they using a different name? What corporations do they have linked to their families? To the businesses? Are there shell companies that they are funnelling money into? Off shore accounts? And how does this all tie into Tywin Lannister. Because I can tell you right now, no way in hell that man is willingly allowing people to skim from him.”

She worried her lip while Stannis sat back and observed her.

“Gut instinct, what do you think is going on?” he asked.

She took a moment but he shook his head.

“Just say it.”

“Drugs. Prostitution. Money laundering. Those are the big three.”

“I agree.”

Relief coursed through her at saying it out loud and not being told she was seeing something that didn’t exist, or that she had an overactive imagination.

“And those are highly illegal activities, of which none of that will be part of their official books,” Stannis continued.

“I know. Frick, I do know this. I mean, these aren’t great people, but that also doesn’t mean I can justify setting Jaqen loose on them. Not if I want to eventually publish a story that holds up.”

Stannis leaned forward, so they were closer.

“In a perfect world, how would you go about getting this information.”

Sansa snorted. “In a perfect world I’d either have an inside source that I’d cultivated, or a whistleblower.”

"Isn't Jaqen a source?" he asked.

Sansa frowned. "Well, I don't know. I mean, not if I approach him."

He leaned forward. "I understand your stance. And I'm not trying to be … flippant."

Stannis's lips quirked a bit, and Sansa couldn't help but return the smile, knowing this was him trying to understand how her professional ethics and his need to keep her safe could work in tandem. She appreciated it more than she could adequately say, having a man listen to her and try to meet her halfway, while at the same time helping her work through this puzzle.

"What I'm saying is that you've looked at the legal end of things, but if these companies are hiding their profits, or doing things under the table, doing things illegally, wouldn't using someone like Jaqen to see if that was happening be like using a source?"

She nodded, slowly, thinking about how Stannis was framing it. To some, it might seem like splitting hairs, but she understood what he was saying. There were plenty of times when a whistleblower approached reporters. This wasn't quite the same , but ---

"To a point, yes. I mean, I just need to know if the companies exist. Or if they are funnelling profits away from their legally established corporations. I don't want him hacking into private email accounts or diving into their personal lives. That's too big a line for me, Stannis. I just need a thread I can tug. I can do a lot with a thread," she told him, confident in her abilities.

"I'm sure you can," he murmured.

Gods she liked it that he had faith in her abilities. Talk about an aphrodisiac!

Sansa flashed him a cocky little grin and what she hoped was a saucy wink, watching his nostrils flare as his eyes darkened with desire. Still, the man held to their conversation, refusing to be distracted. She freaking loved his discipline because she knew that tonight when they put all of this down and went to bed, the man would ravish her. The air between them just sizzled with want!

"What would your boss do?" Stannis asked.

She thought about that, wondering how often Oberyn had been in such a position. He'd do almost anything for the story. And as he often reminded them, they weren't lawyers or cops. Their job was to expose the corruption – to expose the criminals and the crooks and to use the resources they had.

When she thought about it like that, she knew that if Oberyn had someone like Jaqen at his disposal, he'd use him – to a point.

"I mean, if someone were to come to us with this information, then it would definitely be a source that I could use and protect," she said.

Stannis gave a slight smirk.

"So if somehow Jaqen was to look into the financials of these companies and _only_ the financials and he were to find something, and he or someone else were to give that information to you, that would be acceptable."

She narrowed her eyes. "It's… grey but not as bad as if I were to ask Jaqen myself."

She sighed.

"And to be honest, after learning what you told me about him, I'd be surprised as hell if the man hasn't dug up everything on everyone. Including all the players here," she said, waving a hand at her notebook.

These were the movers and the shakers of Westeros. Knowing what she did about her sister's fiancé, the man probably already had thick files on all the people she was investigating.

She could see that Stannis agreed with her.

"And he probably looked into all of us Starks as well, didn't he?"

Stannis sipped at his coffee. "Yes."

No sugar coating it. No hiding how dangerous the man Arya was in love with was.

Just yes.

Sansa liked how direct, and to the point Stannis was.

The man her sister was engaged to probably knew all their secrets. Sansa tucked that away into the box of _'things to think about another day.'_

"I don't want everything. Hell, I don't want most of it. Jaqen and what he does, that's on him. I just need a lead,” she muttered again, the debate raging inside her.

She gnawed her lip, mind racing, while Stannis observed her.

That was the other thing. He didn't fill the silence with mindless chatter. She liked that. It gave her time to think.

"The other thing he could do, just because I'm sure he's way faster than I am, to do a search on any Boltons of Greyjoys that have popped on the police radar for the past five years. It's all public record stuff, but he'd be far faster than I am and since they exist in different regions, it’d be easier if he did it."

"Sounds like you have a plan," Stannis said when she glanced down at her notebook again. She knew what needed to be done. She just had to pull the trigger.

"What call do you want to make first? Jaqen? Your father? Or do you want to question me?"

Sansa bit back the instant sorry that seemed to be on the tip of her tongue. It wasn't her fault that Robert was mixed up in all of this, and with how observant Stannis was, he might know more than he realized. It wasn't on her that Robert was in this mess somehow and that she had to question her new lover about his older brother. So she wouldn’t say sorry, even though it sucked that Stannis was related to Robert.

"What does Renly do?" she blurted out suddenly.

"He works for me." Stannis paused as if thinking about his words. "We aren't close – not like I've seen how other brothers are with one another. But we do fine together. He's the flashy one that can schmooze clients and win us contracts."

Stannis gave a little shrug, seemingly unbothered by it. Nodding, Sansa though about everything, making her decision.

"Alight. I think I'll call my sister first."

With that, she rose and went to the living room, not caring if Stannis stayed and listened to her conversation with Arya since she didn't have any secrets from the man.

Sansa looked at her watch, knowing Arya'd be at work right now. She might be at the office or a job site, but if she saw Sansa's number, she'd likely answer. Especially with everything going on – which she did after two short rings.

"How's the studly bodyguard?" Arya asked immediately. "Are you doing him yet? Did the threat of danger make you wanna rip his clothes off?"

Sansa blushed, thinking about the very pleasured time she'd had with Stannis so far. Arya had hit the nail on the head.

"Good. He's good. Arya, we need to talk," Sansa said, knowing how ominous those words sounded.

Instantly her sister bristled. Sansa could feel it through the phone.

"What's up?" Arya demanded, an edge to her voice.

_Fuck, she shouldn't have just blurted that out! Why did she not have more tact?_

"Are you alone?" Sansa asked.

_Gods, that sounded even worse, but time was of the essence._

Her sister let out a little huff of breath, and there was some commotion in the background before Arya finally said, "Ok. I'm alone. Spill it."

As Sansa was trying to think of a tactful way to ask her sister if she knew she was about to be married to an assassin, Arya's voice interrupted her.

"So, Stannis knows who Jaq is, huh. We figured as much when you guys called the other night. And I'm guessing by your pregnant pauses, and he told you what he knows about my man."

" _YOU KNEW_?" Sansa cried, somehow both hurt and impressed.

Sansa could hear Arya's intake of breath over the phone before she spoke.

"Yeah, I knew. I mean, not at first, but I figured it out pretty quick. And in his defence, he never kept anything from me, and no, I'm not going into details of exactly what he told me and what I know. I love him, San and I accept him for who he is."

Sansa was pacing now in front of the big, beautiful windows of Stannis's house, wondering when her life became like a spy movie. Four days ago, her biggest worry was letting Dickon Tarly down easy.

Now? She could barely keep up with all the changes.

"Fine. Well, not fine. I mean, fuck. I don't know what to say. Part of me is worried about you, and the other part knows how much the man loves you."

"I wish I could say that everyone is good or bad, but some of us have … darker things inside of us. Some of us – need to walk a closer line between right and wrong. I will say that I don't condone what he did in his past life, and he's not that guy anymore."

"The assassin guy. But he's still a hacker," Sansa said, trying to gentle her words and understand. She’d known Jaq for three years now, seen how much he loved Arya and treated her like a queen. They were amazing together.

There was a pause. "Yeah, he dabbles. Mostly to catch scumbags. How many times have you heard the police say that, according to an anonymous source, they've caught some dirtbag. Who do you think the anonymous source is, San? Even you can’t be that naïve.”

Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose. Now was not the time to get into the moral and legal implications of Jaqen's chosen profession.

"And if someone were to put a bug in his ear about the financial dealings of Roose Bolton and Balon Greyjoy? Along with any police reports with those names over the past five years?"

"Well, if 'someone' were to do that, then 'someone' could give that information to a reporter they trust as a source," Arya said dryly.

"It has to be only those two things. Nothing more," Sansa insisted.

Arya snorted. "You always did like to colour within the lines, San." Another pause. "I get it."

"Christ, I didn't want you mixed up in all of this."

"Sansa, I accepted this part of my life when I said yes to marrying Jaqen. I love him. And I'm not as concerned about the rules as you are. Someone came after you for doing your job. They blew up your house. They want you dead. So if asking Jaq to run a few searches on stuff that leads to illegal activity helps catch these guys, I won't lose any sleep over it. And neither should you."

Arya's word cut to the heart of the matter, as only a sister and best friend could. There was a bit of sting to Arya’s assessment, for there was some truth to them, but also that warm feeling when people had your back.

Sansa did like things neat and tidy. She was very concerned with right and wrong. Black and white. More than one person had told her to start to see things in shades of grey. Including Oberyn. And Sandor. Fuck, even Pod had mentioned it once or twice. _No time like the present_ , Sansa thought.

"How long?" Sansa asked, instead of addressing some of the things Arya had brought up. Those went into a box to be dealt with later.

"I’ll ask him on one condition."

"Arya," Sansa growled. "I don't have time for your games."

Her sister snickered. "Tell me if you're sleeping with sexy Bodyguard."

"Arya," Sansa hissed. "That's none of your business. And he has a name!"

Her sister let out a triumphant little yell. "So that's a yes. Thank fuck. He's hot, and you need to unwind. I bet that man could unwind you in so many ways."

Sansa swore her face was flaming red.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Relax, sissy. With him watching your back and your front, I feel better. Just tell me he's good in bed."

"Arya."

"I bet he's a man that can dish out the multiple Os."

"Holy shit, I cannot believe my life is in danger, and this is what you want to talk about."

"You need more D. Maybe some afternoon delight. I bet he's watching you right now."

Sansa refused to turn, feeling Stannis's eyes on her. She half-imagined he had super hearing and could hear what Arya was saying.

"Arya, please!"

Her sister sighed.

"Fine, you're no fun, even if you're getting laid. It'll take Jaq a few hours at most. I'll ask him now."

"Thanks. I do appreciate it."

"Anytime, sis. Just please tell me he's as good in bed as he appears to be at keeping you safe."

Something warm coursed through Sansa as she glanced at Stannis, now on his laptop at the kitchen island. He was so effortlessly sexy; she felt her core pulse.

"Oh hell yeah. Better in fact."

Sansa hung up with Arya's happy little squeal still echoing in her ear. Her sister was painfully invested in her love life. A love life that she now apparently had. Sansa knew there was more to do – her list was endless. But after hearing Arya speak of her love for Jaq, Sansa needed a Stannis moment.

He was engrossed in whatever it was he was doing, so he barely knew she was next to him until she was so close, she could smell that unique spicy, woodsy scent of him. As if they'd been doing this for years, Stannis opened his arms, and she stepped closer, leaning into him as she rested her head against his neck and closed her eyes and just took in the feeling of being held by him.

His hands were firm but gentle on her back while he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Why don't we take another walk?" he suggested.

The beach was fast becoming Sansa's second favourite part of Rain House, after the master bedroom.

"You have time?"

Stannis nodded. "I do. And when we return, you can make your phone call to Oberyn and then, if you'd like, you can quiz me on Robert. I'll answer any question you have."

Some of the tension drained from her shoulders, realizing he understood that this was part of her job. She nodded as he fit his hand into hers.

As they were getting ready, pulling on their outdoor gear, a thought occurred to Sansa.

"You should have a dog. You seem like the type of guy that would have a dog. One that would hike with you. And this house? This house needs a dog."

That little smile that she was addicted to quirked on his lips. Stannis wasn't big on expressing himself, not like some guys that seemed to speak just to hear their own voice. But if one knew him well enough, he was easy enough to read. Sansa could tell he was amused.

"Unless you don't like dogs. Which says more about you than you'd think. Everyone should like dogs."

Her parents always had huskies – show dogs – and Sansa missed them living in King's Landing.

His laughter, unexpected, was deep and hearty as he tugged at the end of her braid.

"I like dogs. And I'd love a dog, one day. I just don't have time. Sometimes I'm off on an assignment for weeks at a time. It wouldn't be fair. To the dog."

"Hmmm. Yeah. I mean, I get that. But there is a solution. They have doggie nannies," she said, chattering like a magpie, loving this lighthearted conversation as they stepped outside into the misty afternoon, flashing him a winning smile. The idea of Stannis having a dog that needed a babysitter was freaking priceless.

"Doggie nannies?" Stannis said, giving her a look.

She loved his reaction.

Sansa giggled. "Yup." Popped the p and added a skip to her step. "Or, doggie daycare if you wanted him to have friends."

The look on Stannis's face was priceless and totally worth it. The man looked stunned.

"And because he’d be at daycare, you could totally get a doodle of some sort. Ohhh, the chocolate ones are adorable. And they’re easy to train and so cute!"

Stannis derisive snorted.

"I will not have a doodle. That's not even – they aren't even a real dog!" He said indignantly.

She cocked her head and looked at him, pausing on the endless steps down to the beach.

"Hmm. Let me guess. Belgian Malinois."

His eyes narrowed. "How did you know?"

Sansa just laughed, which she knew drove him mad, as she hurried down the steps towards the beach. A Belgian Malinois was an excellent dog. Loyal, fierce, able to hike up mountains and take down bad guys. It was easy to see Stannis with a dog like that. But somehow, Sansa got a kick out of picturing her very put together lover with a doodle.

"I mean, a Belgian is a great dog, don't get me wrong," she said, stepping onto the little path that led to the beach. "But a doodle? God so cute!" she said. "And you could get him a snappy little bow tie! Oh! You could get him a vest! Or a scarf for around his neck!"

She let out a squeal as the man growled and then swung her up and into his arms. Sansa wrapped her hands around his neck, grinning down at him.

"You like to push me, don't you?" he murmured quietly as their eyes locked.

Sansa felt the spray of the ocean as the waves crashed behind them, the only two people on the beach, as if the entire world was made just for them.

"You need it," was all she said before she pressed her lips to his, losing herself in the kiss, as she slanted her mouth against his.

His response was instantaneous as he deepened the kiss, demanding more from her, his hands on her ass as she moaned and arched closer to him. Eventually, they had to breathe, as he broke the kiss.

Sansa was a bit dazed as she slipped her hand into his and together, they walked down the beach, content with this peaceful moment they had stolen.

There was so much that was uncertain, so much that was up in the air when it came to this mess. But one thing Sansa knew was that no matter what, Stannis was there to see her safely through it.

"Tomorrow, I will set up some targets for shooting practice," he told her, looking at her to see if she would balk at his suggestion.

"Sounds good," was all she said, watching how pleased he was that she was taking her safety seriously. She'd put the shoulder harness and the gun on before they'd left for their walk, earning an approving nod from him.

But for now, she pushed aside thoughts of who was trying to kill her, the mess they were in, how much it might impact their families and the fact that her sister was neck-deep in this as well.

For now, Sansa just allowed herself to enjoy the moment on Stannis's private beach with her very sexy bodyguard, who kept shooting her glances that promised later tonight she would be one very satisfied woman indeed.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Just more of the investigation


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discoveries are made!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who are reading this story! I know that we haven’t had alot of action - 2 more chapters of ‘planning’ at Rain House and then I promise things will be fast and furious to the finish line for these two!

* * *

_ Monday Evening – Stannis _

Stannis was sitting on his couch, his ankles crossed, a fire roaring. Sansa was snuggled against him, his eyes on his computer while she scanned hers. It was a scene of domestic contentment that he’d rarely ever had in his life, and he found himself enjoying it.

After their walk on the beach, they’d come home and made dinner together, before she’d finally placed the phone call to her boss, Oberyn Martell.

Stannis hadn’t even had to ask her to put it on speaker phone – she just did as if she’d known he’d needed to hear the conversation. It wasn’t about lack of trust but about gathering as much intel as possible, something they both seemed to come to terms with after their earlier argument. There was a reason the old adage, _two heads are better than one_ , was true.

As they’d guessed, Oberyn had suspected she was alive and was clearly relieved to hear from her. They hadn’t put themselves on video, preferring to keep as much anonymity as possible as he’d demanded to know where she was and whom she was with. Thankfully, Sansa didn’t disclose any of those details to her boss.

“What happened?” came the man’s demanding voice, making Stannis stiffen slightly. He knew it was a tense situation, so he’d give the man the benefit of the doubt, but he could have been a bit less gruff with her. Stannis knew he was overly protective of Sansa, but that was just who he was.

In short sentences Sansa told Oberyn about coming home from her date on Friday night, finding the dead cat and then phoning her father.

“He sent someone to keep me safe,” was all she would say refusing again to say whom she was with. She might trust Oberyn Martell, but Stannis did not, and she seemed to sense that it was better to keep his involvement in this matter as quiet for as long as they could.

Oberyn let out an impressive string of curses when she told her story, and then asked what she had so far.

She filled him in, including her possible source (Jaqen), although she didn’t name her sister’s fiancé. Stannis was pleased that Oberyn did not seem to have the qualms Sansa did about using a ‘hacker.’

“Sansa, they crossed a line. Get what you can.”

Since Stannis was watching her, he saw the slight frown tug at her lips, but she nodded and said she would. There was something incredibly attractive about a woman that had a very defined sense of right and wrong. It appealed to him on a deep, visceral level. While Stannis knew sometimes there were shades of grey when it came to the greater good, he too was a man that prided himself on doing the right thing. It was just one more fundamental thing that he and Sansa had in common. 

With the matter of Jaqen settled, she asked Oberyn what cases Jaime Lannister was currently working.

“He and his partner have been assigned to a rash of break ins down in Flea Bottom. Connivence stores, pawn shops, second hand stores, places like that. All of them are being ripped off. There was a murder there the other day, so it got bumped up in priority. Just some two time loser scumbag, but still, high profile.”

“So they aren’t anywhere near my case?”

Oberyn’s no was emphatic, as he let out a rather dramatic sigh. Stannis could already tell that Sansa’s boss was a flashy kind of guy, unlike himself. The man seemed to like the attention on him.

When necessary Stannis knew he could command a room. He knew his looks, his sheer presence, the way he could wear a bespoke suit with the best of them, or handle any weapon handed to him, bestowed him with a confidence that some found borderline arrogant.

But part of what made him so good at his job was that he could fade into the background when needed. And he didn’t let emotion rule him – unlike Sansa’s boss, who was … emotional. Working for a man like that would drive Stannis mad. In fact, working for anyone these days would not be his first choice. Stannis needed to be in control and was happiest when he was his own boss. 

“Jaime Lannister is many things. But I do not believe he’s a dirty cop. Nor is Arthur Dayne, which pains me to say,” Oberyn muttered, and Stannis knew there had to be a history there. Both men were from the Dorne region, one Stannis wasn’t overly familiar with. He’d had enough of the desset when he’d been deployed into Essos. 

Sansa hummed out a sympathetic _yeah_ which told Stannis that as much as these people were her collogues; they were also her friends. She was close with them. Cared for them. They were her family down in King’s Landing.

“So Jaime isn’t anywhere near my case, which is good, but that press conference was bullshit, O. There is no way they didn’t know it was a bomb.”

Another dramatic sigh and Stannis barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Gods this Oberyn sounded like a drama queen! Sansa must have caught his look, for her lips quirked and he flashed her a quick smirk, watching her blush.

“I know. Word is that Beric is running his own little crew like a modern day king out of the main prescient downtown. Jaime, Arthur and Bronn were all transferred. Now they’re all working out of the 15, down by Maegor’s Holding.”

“What a mess,” she muttered, shaking her head.

She had been perched at the island, a seemingly favourite spot of hers as he’d prepared them honey glazed chicken and parmesan risotto for dinner. She kept glancing at him and sniffing, which was far more adorable than Stannis thought possible, glad he’d taken the time to learn how to cook after his marriage had ended. Feeding Sansa was just one more way he liked taking care of her.

“Sansa, you need to keep your focus where it is needed. Investigate the families. I’ll keep an eye on the cops and shoot you any information I hear. When are you coming home?”

At this question she did look to him, which pleased Stannis. He knew their time at Rain House was coming to an end. As much as he liked the safety it offered, they would never be safe if she continued to hide. He flashed up a hand, indicating five days. In all likelihood they’d be back sooner, but he didn’t want anyone knowing their itinerary.

As if she’d read his mind, Sansa muttered something about a week and then got off the call, with promises to dig deeper while Oberyn and the guys dug into the supposed dirty cops. Stannis could tell that the initial story had morphed into something much larger than just corruption in the North.

After her phone call with her boss, she’d eaten, with enthusiasm, and delighted him with her rant about the corruption of the King’s Landing police department. She was a passionate woman, something he’d experienced that morning in the bedroom. When she finally took a breath, he leaned in to kiss her, effectively stopping the word vomit.

“Breath,” he told her, infusing the word with command.

Her eyes narrowed, and Stannis chuckled. He liked getting her anger up. She was adorable when her blue eyes blazed, and her lips thinned.

“You know getting yourself worked up accomplishes nothing.”

He rose, and began to clear their plates, when he was joined by her. Sansa filled the sink to rinse and clean them, by his side. He liked how she just threw herself into helping out around the house – that she wasn’t a woman that needed to be waited upon hand and foot, that she knew what chores were. Could he afford the help? Of course. But it was a lazy and inept man in Stannis’s mind that couldn’t take care of himself – at least when it came to the basics.

Finally, with their dishes cleared, and the kitchen put to rights, she leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her chest and eyed him. He had a hard time not starting at her breasts, which were such delightful handfuls, imagining all the ways he could play with them. They were the perfect size, firm and round and just large enough to have a bounce. Gods, he wanted to see her ride him.

Then he had another, darker, lustier thought. Was she into nipple play? Would she be into clamps?

“I know I get passionate about certain things,” she began, drawing his attention back to her and the slightly put out look on her face.

“No, we are not doing this again,” he said, voice firm and with a shake of his head. Stannis knew exactly the type of woman she was – a woman of substance. She didn’t need to justify her passions to him. But he wasn’t going to watch her get into her own head time and again and pick a fight with him. He had much better ways to get her refocused.

“But ----” she started to protest just as Stannis grabbed a belt loop on her jeans and tugged her into his arms, pleased when she melted against his chest. He cupped her ass and let her feel how hard he was. They had a few more hours of work, but no reason she couldn’t be pleasured right here and now.

Stannis dropped a kiss to her neck and sucked. Her breathy moan went straight through him, ramping up his need for her.

“Stop picking a fight with me and stop overthinking things. You can’t solve all the world’s problems tonight, as admirable as a goal that might be,” he said, in-between love bites to her delicate neck and the shell of her ear.

He took a moment to savour the taste of her skin, slightly salty. From their walk, the ocean or a combination he didn’t quite know. But it was addictive. She was addictive.

Was she aware she was grinding herself against him? She was so responsive to him, so open and honest with her desires, that it fed into his need for her.

“I know,” she groaned as he found another sensitive spot and tugged. “But I have to try to make it better.”

It was an admirable goal, but she’d run herself ragged if she allowed herself to care so damn much. Knowing just what she needed, and using his strength and speed, Stannis flicked open the button of her jeans and then pulled them down her long legs, taking the thong with it. Thankfully she understood what he wanted as she kicked the jeans off just as he reached for her, lifting her and placing her on the island.

“I want you to forget all the bullshit for the next little while and focus on me,” he told her as he cupped her mound and stroked.

She was creaming all over his hand, so turned on and primed he knew he could have her peak in a matter of seconds. It was as if she’d been built to respond to him and him alone.

“Oh yes please,” she said, letting her legs fall open, head thrown back, her hair a glorious mane of blond cascading down her back. She was stunning.

Her _yes please_ revved him in a way no other word could, and he let out a little growl, needing to taste her, to make her buck and scream and know that he was the man that was giving her this pleasure. That he was the _only_ man capable of making her feel like this.

His eyes locked on hers as she bit that lip, plumping it up. Both sets were waiting for his ministrations.

“Keep your legs spread while I play. If you close them, I’ll stop and leave you aching for the rest of the night as your punishment,” he told her.

Eyes glazed with lust, she nodded and then spread herself wide, making the most delectable picture. Naked from the waist down, with neatly trimmed curls she was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

“Hands on the island,” he commanded, locking eyes with her as he sat on the stool. Stannis placed his hands on the top of her pale, toned thighs and stroked his fingers over her, never quite touching where she ached.

He was teasing her, tormenting her, seeing her muscles quiver, until finally he took pity on her and brushed his thumb over her straining nub.

Sansa let out a moan and then bucked, but her hands stayed planted on the kitchen island as her eyes bored into his.

Stannis smirked at her and then leaned down, wanting more of her silken heat.

Christ, she tasted divine and he couldn’t get enough, his own body demanding he do something about this raging need inside of him.

But he would not. Right now was all about her – and the pleasure that he could bring her. Stannis needed Sansa to understand the more she trusted him, the more she would realize that he was everything she’d ever needed in a lover. He knew what she both wanted and needed.

Stannis repeated his motions, sensual and slow, adding his fingers, working them in tandem and felt her come apart after he’d barely started. Unsatisfied with one orgasm, Stannis tongued her through another one, until she was whimpering and twitching, laying limp on the island.

Supremely pleased with how she’d given herself over to the pleasure, he tugged her up and kissed her hard, loving how she wrapped her half naked body around his and poured herself into the kiss, uncaring she was tasting herself on his lips. When he finally pulled back from her mouth, she had a dreamy look in her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about that since I first saw this island.”

Stannis chuckled. “I know.”

The pink that stained her cheeks was adorable, as she shook her head at him. There was still a part of her that was coming to terms with the idea that he knew what she wanted and needed when it came to sex almost more than she did. With time, she would understand that he got pleasure from being in charge of her pleasure.

Stannis cupped her ass, his own needs demanding attention. Setting her down, he tugged off her top, followed quickly by her lacy bra, as she was doing the same for him. She looked fantastic, naked in his kitchen, all creamy skin with pink accents, a dewy flush to her skin.

Unable to resist her perfect nipples, his tongued one turgid peak into his mouth as his other hand kneaded her ass. He switched breasts, until both were wet from his ministrations.

“More, please,” she begged sweety as he let out a dark chuckle. This had been for her, but now his own body demanded a release, and he was not one to deny himself such a sweet pleasure. Not when he’d have the image of taking her in his kitchen seared into his mind.

“Turn and place your hands on the island and spread your legs, Sansa,” he commanded, watching her eyes darken with lust. She turn and wiggled, shooting him a coquettish smile, as he smacked her butt playfully. She laughed as Stannis stepped closer, pressing kisses down her spine, cupping her breasts and rolling her nipples, nudging his hardened length between the damp juncture at her thighs.

“Careful,” he growled into her ear, just as he paused, hearing her breath hitch as she waited. Then he ruthlessly thrust inside of her. She was tight and wet from her previous orgasms and felt so incredible that he had to close his eyes for a brief moment, ensuring that this didn’t end too soon. He was a man that prided himself on his stamina, but she was sorely challenging that right now.

Slowly he withdrew, heard her whimper and then surged back inside.

“Hold on,” he grunted, grabbing her hips. His pace was punishing, but her breathless pants and please told Stannis she was right there with her as he took her hard and fast. Sansa raced towards her third orgasm in half an hour and he pumped furiously inside her, emptying only when she went limp in his arms, bellowing out his own satisfaction with how amazing it felt to be buried deep inside of her.

The only thing holding her up was his arms and her death grip on the marble countertop, her eyes closed and dreamy smile on her face. When he finally withdrew, she grimaced slightly, and he wondered if she were sore. Their sex hadn’t exactly been gentle and sweet.

“Sore?” he asked, instantly worried.

She gave him a reassuring smile. “A little but nothing I can’t handle. A good sore,” she told him.

Then she glanced down at herself.

“I’m a mess,” she said.

They were both covered in evidence of her three hard orgasms and his one. Without waiting, he scooped her into his arms and carried up the stairs and to their bedroom, confident in his nakedness and how good he looked.

Apparently, Sansa thought so as well.

“I like that you are so strong,” she said, now cuddly in his arms.

Stannis barked out a laugh. “You’re not exactly a burden, Sansa.”

She frowned. “I’m tall. But you’re tall as well. I like that you’re tall. It sucks when you are dating a guy and you can’t wear heels.”

He gave her a warm smile. “I promise when we are out on dates you can wear the tallest heels you’d like.”

Even if she did, she wouldn’t match his impressive height.

Her eyes widened as if she hadn’t considered that he might take her out, and while he wasn’t eager to leave the safety of Rain House, the idea of having Sansa Stark on his arm, as his girlfriend, made Stannis’s chest puff out.

Call him egotistical, or a throwback, a caveman even, but he wanted every fucking man in Westeros to know she belonged to him. He didn’t care if that made him sound like some territorial asshole, it’s just how it was. She was his.

“Are you going to take me out on a date?” she asked, a coy look in her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips.

He leaned down and captured that lip, biting it slightly just as he reached the bathroom and tapped her bottom.

“Yes I am.”

“Where?”

He gave her a wink and then named the restaurant where they’d accidently run into one another on Friday evening.

She was glorious as she threw her head back and laughed, clapping in delight.

“You’re one of a kind, Stannis Baratheon,” she purred, her lips on his again, as he adjusted the water and they stepped into the shower together.

After they cleaned up and dressed in comfortable clothing, they had come back downstairs to work, their brief time away from the mess that was dogging them now over.

Sansa made tea, becoming more comfortable in his home with each passing hour. He paused for a moment to observe her, a rightness at seeing her here, humming off key as she puttered away in a place that was so wholly his.

Stannis brought everything to the great room, spreading it out on a coffee table made from the wood harvested from the trees around the Stormlands.

Most of the pieces in his home were crafted from local artisans and one of a kind. He’d spent several weekends touring the area, and making the purchases, knowing that Rain House would be a masterpiece when he was done with it.

Sansa’s reaction to the tour had only affirmed what Stannis already knew – that he had impeccable taste and that she was a woman that appreciated craftsmanship and uniqueness over mass produced shit available at every import furniture store. She was, as he was discovering, a woman of substance.

Stannis had added wood to the fire, turned on the lamps and taken a look outside. A new storm had blown in and the night was utterly miserable.

He’d never been a man that cared much about warm and cozy, but as he gazed around the great room, he realized having Sansa here added a warmth to the house that had previously been missing.

When she was done in the kitchen, Sansa put her tea on the table and then dropped down beside him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips as she snuggled up beside him.

Another thing Stannis liked about Sansa? She knew how to just be. When she got going, she could talk his ear off, but she also had extended periods that she didn’t need to just fill with words.

Pleased with how the evening had gone, they’d both dove into the records that Jaqen had supplied.

The records had arrived, as promised, within hours after her phone call to her sister. And as predicted, they shed a very nasty picture on what was happening in the North and the Iron Islands.

Stannis kept his thoughts to himself until Sansa finally stopped reading, reached for her lukewarm tea and sipped. She was thinking, mulling things over and Stannis found her equally alluring when she was doing so as he did when she was spread out beneath him, taking whatever pleasure he doled out.

“It’s what we suspected, isn’t it? Drugs, money laundering and brothel activity,” she said.

“Yes.”

“But it’s bigger than we thought.”

“It appears that way.” There was a pit in his stomach, as Stannis had read through the documents.

No sense in beating around the bush. The Bolton and Greyjoys were up to their crocked necks in illegal activity in their casinos.

“And those payments? I’ve seen something like that before. It’s blackmail,” she told, turning to him.

While Sansa wanted to expose the corruption that was happening in the North, what had sparked all of this was that conversation she’d overheard at her father’s political fundraiser. The one where Robert was involved.

“What was Robert into?” she asked him, quietly, laying a hand on his forearm, as if she sensed that this might be difficult for him.

It was, but in ways Stannis couldn’t quite articulate. He hated stupid people. Lazy people. Sloppy people. Those who took shortcuts and didn’t work for what they had. All the things that were the very embodiment of his older brother. Those payments that Sansa spoke of were very clearly blackmail, as she had deduced. And Robert’s name was all over it.

It was a good setup, not original and certainly not unique. Bolton and Greyjoy were blackmailing high profile people that got in too deep with them – either drugs, gambling or women.

And Robert wasn’t the only one.

There were numerous payments made at regular intervals by a number of different people. People that would have no reason to be making a payment to men like Roose Bolton or Balon Greyjoy. People that were making payments to them to keep something quiet.

Stannis had no loyalty to Robert – not when it came to Sansa. But it angered that his brother had been idiotic enough to get himself mixed up in something of this nature. That he might drag the family name down with him.

Now Stannis mulled over Sansa’s question. What was Robert into? The better question was, what was he not into?

“If I had to guess, I’d say gambling,” he told her, dismissing the idea of Robert doing drugs, since he’d submitted to screening regularly, and shockingly enough, Robert didn’t have to pay women to sleep with him – they just naturally flocked to him. “The man has a serious gambling addiction.”

Sansa’s big blue eyes never left his face as she listened to him speak, Stannis letting out a weary sigh. It seemed like he’d been cleaning up Robert’s messes for a very long time.

“He’s a boorish and ill-mannered man, with big appetites. Food. Women. Drink. Robert has never understood when something couldn’t be his. It just about killed him when your aunt Lyanna ran away with Rhaegar all those years ago. To this day, he still rages about it, even though one could argue he made a far more advantageous match.”

Sansa snorted and gave Stannis a look. “Cersei Lannister-Baratheon is a viper.”

Stannis agreed. “She is. And within a year of their marriage, they were both sleeping with other people, but neither one was bothered by it. It suits them.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head. “I’ll never understand those types of marriages.”

“Neither will I. In any case, she gave him his children, and access to her father’s money and clout. He gave her an in to the who’s who in King’s Landing and the chance to be the wife of one of the most powerful politicians in Westeros. Does he gamble? Yes. Did he sleep around? Most certainly. But I’ve never known Robert to cross a line – and I would never condone or clean up any activity of his that was illegal.”

He couldn’t hid the disgust in his words, nor the bite of fury. Robert was an embarrassment to the Baratheon family name.

_Gods, what might have happened if Ned hadn’t called him? Could Robert have brought them all down with himself?_

Stannis felt Sansa’s hand on his arm, squeezing.

“I know. I trust you, Stannis. I know what type of man you are.”

He gave a short nod, unable to tell her what her trust in him meant.

“As much as I’ve been cleaning up his messes, I suspect Tywin has been at it far longer than I have. There is simply no way a man like Robert hasn’t run up excessive debt in the past twenty years, but I have never seen it. I’ve had my eye on our family company since I was in grad school, and there is nothing untoward there.”

Sansa let out a relieved sigh and nodded.

“Good. That’s good. Ok, so we know that Roose and Balon are into illegal things. And it seems like they’ve hit on a blackmail scheme that’s paying off nicely for them. Every big event in the last year that either one of them held, Robert was at.”

She paused and then glanced at him. “Do you have access to his financials?”

Seething with rage that Robert had been so stupid and beginning to understand what his idiotic brother had gotten himself involved in, Stannis’s response was short and to the point.

“Yes.”

While Stannis closely monitored the Baratheon family business, he rarely had a reason to go into Robert’s personal bank account. That didn’t mean he didn’t have access to it. He did. Robert had insisted upon it. In many ways his brother was blindly trusting and almost naïve when it came to those things. But Stannis supposed that happened when everything seemed to work out for you because people cleaned up after you.

Stannis sat forward and went to work on his laptop and it soon became apparent that any ‘event’ that Robert was at was followed closely by a large withdrawal of money from his account.

“Fuck,” Stannis muttered, showing Sansa how drained Robert’s account was. “The man has next to nothing,” he said, unnecessarily.

Needing to pace, to think, he rose from the couch and walked the room, his mind trying to fit the pieces together.

“The last event was in the North and it looks like he didn’t have enough to cover it,” Sansa finally said.

Stannis turned and looked at her. He’d seen that as well.

“So if he wasn’t skimming money from the company, how was he making these payments?”

The family business was successful, but it employed thousands and was run by a fierce woman named Brienne Tarth who commanded it like a well-oiled machine. No way Robert could have slipped a nickel past her nose and not have her raise holy hell about it. And both Renly and Stannis had full access to the company’s records, so Robert had to have known it wasn’t an option for him.

That left only one option.

“It had to be his father in law,” Stannis said. It was the only thing that made sense.

“But it appears the payments from Tywin have stopped,” Sansa said, voice calm. “That’s what we must have witnessed in the North. Whatever they have on Robert, whatever they are blackmailing him with, he can’t pay.”

“He’s made himself vulnerable,” Stannis snarled, furious at his brother. “They must think they can get to Tywin through Robert.”

“So how does Cersei fit into all of this? Does she know?” Sansa asked.

Stannis forced his brain away from the betrayal he felt at Robert’s stupidity and thought about his sister-in-law. She had always been ambitious, far more than Robert. His brother liked the spotlight, but not the work that came with his job as senator. Half of Robert’s stances on policy were his wife’s and she used her position well, as the true power behind her husband.

“She always wanted more. She is wildly ambitious and bitter about her father not appointing her his heir. I’m not sure why he didn’t, for she is at least as cunning and as ruthless as Tywin is, but they had a falling out and he’s kept her at arm’s length for years. Last I heard, his brother Kevan is tapped to step into the role of President of Lannister Corporation. That was a position Cersei desperately wanted.”

Sansa leaned forward on the couch; her eyes bright.

“But by all accounts, Jaq can’t find any records indicating that Tywin Lannister is tied to this in anyway,” she said. And if Jaqen Hagar couldn’t link Tywin to the illegal activities the other two were participating in, it was highly likely he wasn’t part of it.

Stannis snorted. “There is no way that man is totally clean, but yes, I agree. This seems --- decidedly risky and low brow for him. He doesn’t need the money, not like the others do and the risks make no sense. But how did he not know this was going on?”

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t know. It seems odd that he didn’t realize all of this.”

She waved to indicate the reams of information that they had found.

“We need to ask him.”

Stannis had rarely been shocked in his life, but Sansa had managed to do so. By the stubborn tilt of her jaw, he knew she would not back down.

“And how do you propose we do that? You think a man like Tywin Lannister just lets investigative reporters waltz into his inner sanctum,” Stannis asked, somewhat incredulously. Stannis had been to Casterly Rock half a dozen times. The place was a vault and Tywin Lannister ruled it like a modern day king.

Her grin was fierce and intense. It was a look Stannis knew had been on his face more than once. It was a look of when he’d had a plan, put things into motion after gathering the appropriate intel. She could smell her story and the break they needed.

She waved hand at her laptop. “We show him what we have. We show him how he’s being screwed. We show him how close he is to losing it all. Or going to jail.”

Stannis kept his eyes locked on Sansa’s as he thought over what she’d told him.

He didn’t love the idea of approaching Tywin Lannister. The man had a reputation for a reason. Stannis was a wealthy man, confident and secure in what he did, the skills he possessed and the abilities he had.

But Tywin Lannister was the top dog for lack of a better term in Westeros. The man ruled several regions with an iron fist – including the capital, the Westerlands and now, if the rumors were true, the Reach.

“He’s not a man to play with Sansa,” Stannis warned, sharing his thoughts. “Joffrey Lannister-Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell just announced their engagement.”

“What?” Sansa screeched, diving for her laptop. She pulled up the latest gossip rag from King’s Landing, where the headlines blazed. Marg was another socialite, a year older than Sansa and Joff. 

“It’s hard not to think that Tywin is playing Kingmaker, wanting Robert as president,” Stannis said dryly. “He might not know about any of this, but that doesn’t mean he has the same goal as us. He might not want any of this exposed.”

He’d always wondered why Tywin of all people had put up with Robert’s buffoonery, but perhaps this had been the end game. If Robert were president, it wasn’t hard to imagine who would have been whispering in his ear. Or demanding compensation for the many, many times Tywin had bailed Robert out. If Robert were President, it would be Tywin that was the real power.

Sansa now stood, and Stannis could tell her mind was racing, as the wrung her hands together, eyes distant. She was full of balled up energy, and he could feel it too. It was as if they’d cracked open the seedy underbelly of Westeros and it stunk. And while they knew more, they still didn’t know enough. Including the motivations of some of the key players.

When she finally looked at him, she appeared almost fevered she was so excited.

“I think Cersei is planning a coup,” she quietly as if testing out the idea.

Stannis gave a slow nod, having come to a similar conclusion. “I agree.”

“It all makes sense. Robert got mixed up in something … maybe not illegal, but something he definitely knew would ruin his political career. It appears, for a time, he managed to keep the wolf from the door, with payments from his father in law. But when those payments stopped, that’s when they must have upped the ante, threatening Robert. Left with no other choice, Robert must have told Cersei.”

“And?” Stannis prompted, smirking at her. Watching her think was a marvel.

Her eyes were so bright, the grin ferocious.

“And that’s when Cersei saw an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. I think she is planning to take down both her father and Robert in one grand expose, and then step in to take over the family business, going into partnership with the Boltons and the Greyjoys. With Robert disgraced, her father arrested, she’d have virtually no one to stand in her way from running Lannister Corporation.”

“And Joffrey?”

Sansa’s face twisted in disgust. “The perfect patsy to run for office, to take his father’s place. He’s his mother’s pawn. Gods, even my own parents pushed me towards him, saying we’d created some stupid political dynasty.” She gave a careless little shrug. “And let’s not pretend that Olenna Tyrell hasn’t had her eye on the capital for a while. Margaery is the perfect political wife for Joff. It’s impossible to deny the power couple they’d make.”

Both of them shared a distasteful look at that thought.

“Do you know her?”

Sansa shook her head. “Not well. I mean, all of our families move in the same circles, right? But we’re not friends. You?”

“There was a time when she was quite taken with Renly. She’s a year older than you and Joffrey, and they were at university together. Now Ren is happily with Loras, so we are connected.”

“All the big families are,” Sansa said, bringing up another important point. There were so many connections here that they had to tread carefully.

“We cannot prove any of this,” Stannis told her. “And these are powerful people. Connected people. People with old loyalties and even older grudges.”

She nodded, bit her lip and then looked at him.

“I know but we can take all of this to Tywin.”

Stannis tamped down his instinct to protest. He’d known it was the next logical step. The only logical step. Robert’s political campaign was set to kick off in twelve days.

“It’s a risk. A huge risk.”

“I know, but what else can we do?” she asked.

For the first time since Friday night when her house had exploded, she looked a bit helpless.

Suddenly this space between then seem too far, and in a few quick strides, Stannis had her in his arms. They had crossed from investigation into speculation and now were discussion what they might do with what they learned. Stannis wanted her to know that she had him by her side, whatever route they chose.

Stannis liked how she wrapped her arms around him, gazing up at him. He was pleased to see the concern in her eyes, which meant she was taking this seriously.

“Even if we are right, telling a man like Tywin Lannister that he has essentially been bamboozled could backfire spectacularly. And that’s if we are right. If we are wrong? Well, they we will have walked into the lion’s den, quite literally, with all our cards showing.”

She nodded. “Do you think ---” she paused and swallowed hard. “Do you think it’s the right call?”

Stannis had seen how fiercely devoted this woman was to her profession – how much she relied on her own instincts. The trust she was placing in him, by asking his opinion, was not lost on Stannis.

He brushed his lips across hers, gently, loving how she pressed closer to him.

“I think it is our best option, if we want a chance at stopping whatever it is that is happening and getting to the bottom of who tried to hurt you. There are any number of people in either organization, along with Cersei herself who might want you out of the way.”

The relief on her face was palpable. It was a risk – but one they had to take.

She let out a relived little giggle. “Can you get us in to see Tywin?”

There was a part of Stannis that wanted to say no, but he knew that would serve no purpose. As much as he didn’t like it, logically, confronting the Great Lion was the next step.

“I can.”

The man had never refused Stannis in the past – no reason to think he would start now. And while time was scarce and they had none to lose, for tonight, it was enough.

She opened her mouth, another dozen questions probably already formed, but he quieted her with a kiss.

“It’s late, and we need a break,” he said, watching her pout.

Stannis let out a little growl, as her eyes danced, the worry chased away for now. He gave her a swat on the butt as she gathered their cups, already into their nightly routine. He would patrol the grounds, check that they were safe, while she tidied up.

And then he would slip into bed beside her, as if they had been doing this for years instead of mere days, knowing that for now she was safe in his arms, and that he would do whatever necessary to keep her that way. Even if it meant guarding her back as she walked into the lion’s den.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next
> 
> One more day at Rain House, before Sansa and Stannis go to the West to confront Tywin and then back in King’s Landing, to put their plans into motion and expose the bad guys


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected threat forces Stannis and Sansa to leave Rain House sooner than they planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story kind of stalled on me - huge shout out to MF for helping me through that lull!
> 
> I hope this works!

* * *

_ Tuesday Morning – Sansa _

Sansa had one hand on the headboard, gripped tight, the other one on Stannis's chest, her head thrown back as she undulated her hips, riding Stannis for all she was worth. At twenty-six, this was the best sex she'd ever had, and Stannis had an amazing body, especially for a man that was in his mid-forties. The man just oozed sex and she was here for all of it.

This morning when she'd woken up, her lover's need evident and matching her own, Sansa had pushed him down on the bed and mounted him.

His eyes had gone dark with desire as she'd taken control, and somehow, she knew that he was 'allowing' this, which had been so hot that she practically whimpered when she'd taken him deep inside her body.

She moaned as Stannis's hands reached up to caress her bouncing breasts, grinding down on him again and again.

"That's it," he encouraged, trailing one hand down her sweat-soaked body to grip her hip as he thumbed and pinched a nipple. He smacked her ass, and she swore she felt herself get wetter.

"Stannis," she panted, digging her nails into his chest, watching that bite of pain drive him wild.

She kept up her movements until she felt herself flutter. Reading her body like a book, she screamed as Stannis pinched her clit and her orgasm washed over her like a tsunami.

Her lover, so strong and sure, gripped her hips, flipped her still orgasming body, encouraging her onto all fours before he surged into her from behind, sinking his hands into her hair and tugging her head up so that her back was pressed against his chest. He pressed one hand to her stomach and she swore she could feel him inside her, he was so deep. It wasn't a position every man could pull off. But he could, and she felt him thrust inside her, deeply.

"More, please" she moaned as Stannis leaned down and sucked a bruise into her neck, making her moan. Gods, she felt her spent channel clench, somehow primed for this man. She always wanted more with this incredible man and how he worked her body perfectly. She’d never known the meaning of multiple orgasms before she’d met Stannis.

"I want one more orgasm from you, Sansa. Get there. Feel me, how hard I am, how much you drive me wild," he grunted into her ear as he pumped inside her, steady and sure, never breaking rhythm.

She whimpered but felt herself ramp back up, his words sparking something deep and primal inside of her. This man just _got_ her – knew exactly what and how she needed it. It was the hottest sex she'd ever had, and she just wanted more of it, greedy for him.

"Stannis," she cried.

"Hands-on the headboard," he said, smacking her ass as he drove into her, his pace relentless as he took her up again.

Sansa scrambled to grip the headboard as he plowed her hard and then felt everything in her coil and tighten as he gripped her hair and tugged hard. The slight pain skyrocketed her already intense pleasure.

The keening noises she was making made her sound like some wild woman who was being fucked to within an inch of her life – which she was.

When she came apart, she screamed out Stannis's name, too spent to do much more than feel Stannis roar out his release, both of them entirely spent as they collapsed onto one another.

In the afterglow, Sansa was sprawled across the muscled chest of Stannis as his fingers trailed down her spine, making her shiver. The moments of gentleness from this man were so at odds with how fiercely they came together, but equally welcome. Sansa was a woman that needed both and Stannis understood that.

Tilting her head, she grinned up at him.

"We're pretty awesome, aren't we?"

The cocky smirk on Stannis's face was everything as she somehow moved her limp body up his and pressed her lips to his. She loved his hands in her hair, their lips still locked as he rolled them, so he was ranged over her, holding himself up on his forearms.

Now he was gazing down at her as he brushed back her sweaty hair from her face. She must look thoroughly ravaged, and it made her feel sexy as hell.

"I've waited a very long time to find this kind of chemistry with someone," he told her truthfully. She understood. The edge they walked wasn't exactly something everyone was into. But it worked for them – and this was only the beginning. Sansa could hardly imagine when they had time to explore every fantasy they had.

Sansa nodded, biting her lip. "I have always had these desires. I umm, read books, romance books that had these elements in them, but I have never found anything like this."

Stannis pressed his lips to her, kissing her softly.

"This is something rare," he agreed and then nudged her legs apart, somehow hard and wanting her again. The man was the best kind of beast and all hers.

“Stannis,” she moaned as he started moving again and she was swept up into a maelstrom of desire that only he could quench.

An hour later, freshly showered and starving, they were in the kitchen, Stannis cooking while Sansa started spreading out her notes and firing up her laptop. She was sipping coffee, alternatively admiring the jeans her lover wore and how they hugged his incredible ass while thinking about all the fantastic sex she'd had in the past few days.

Sex she had only ever dreamed of was now being doled out like candy, and she couldn't get enough. Couldn't get enough of this very complex man she was in a relationship with. She found him fascinating – how competent and confident he was. She liked how he was brilliant, how he didn't back down from what he believed in, and that he was a man that kept true to his word.

And good lord, he was sexy. It didn't matter what he did; Sansa practically had to wipe the drool away whenever she got to watch him.

Like now – cooking.

It was turning her on, watching Stannis cook, seeing how efficient he was in the kitchen. He was a man entirely at ease in his space and gods; that was a massive turn-on. He didn't pretend to be anything he wasn't.

"So I thought this morning we could do some target practice," he said, as he whipped up eggs for the omelette he was making them.

Sansa nodded, sipping coffee. "Sure."

While it wasn't sunny, there was no rain, and it was as good a day as any to practice. With their new plan to go to Lannisport, she knew that their time at Rain House was winding down.

"Who taught you how to shoot?"

"My Dad when we were younger. He hunts, along with my brothers, and he said as long as we had guns in the house, we all needed to know how to use them."

"Smart," Stannis said. The man cocked his head as she paused with her coffee halfway to her mouth.

"What?"

Stannis crossed his arms, a frown on his handsome face. "It's just something that's always bothered me."

"What?"

"I've never understood how your father is friends with my brother."

Sansa gave an inelegant snort. "I know, right? Me either."

Pleased they were of one mindset when it came to the baffling friendship between Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, Sansa took another sip of coffee, skipping around the internet, noting nothing new had been reported about her house or the investigation into what caused it to go ka-boom. Gods, the police really were idiots.

Stannis smirked and shook his head. "They seem so fundamentally different."

Sansa hummed her agreement. She'd never really understood some of her parents' friends.

She'd learned only recently that her mother had once been close with Petyr Baelish, the man she'd uncovered running his scheme at the university. At first, Catelyn had refused to believe what Sansa had found, claiming there was no way that Petyr would ever do such a thing. Only when confronted with Sansa’s evidence had her mother finally relented that she might have been wrong about Petyr. As far as Sansa could tell her parents had blinders when it came to some of their friends, that was for sure.

"My father is fiercely loyal, and they were so close in university that I think he was never able to cut that string."

Sansa shrugged.

"I mean, they definitely didn't see much of each other after Robert married Cersei. That woman is awful."

Stannis arched an eyebrow.

"Understatement."

He expertly flipped the omelet, winked at her and then topped up her coffee, all the while sending jolts of lust soaring through her body.

"No kidding," Sansa agreed.

"So, how does your father feel about the casinos?" Stannis as he plated their breakfast and then took a seat next to her. "I can't see a man like Ned Stark approving of them or allowing too many in the North."

She liked this – how domestic they were, all the little things that she'd never had in a relationship before. She couldn't help but glance down at the rings on her finger, a jolt of longing that maybe one day it might be real. She was starting to think that there was no one quite like Stannis in all of Westeros. And certainly, she'd never felt such chemistry with anyone, ever.

Stannis ticked so many boxes in her "best boyfriend" column.

"Oh, my Dad hates them," she said between bites, moaning a bit at how good it was.

"He's done everything he can to limit their influence in the North where he can. Unlike the Iron Islands and the Dreadfort. Somehow, Roose was able to exploit some loophole in the city bylaws, which is how he has three. And don't even get my father started on the Iron Islands. I'm not sure exactly what happened in the past between my father and Balon Greyjoy, but there is no love lost between them."

Stannis sipped coffee and looked at her. "And Roose?"

Sansa gave an involuntary shudder as Stannis's hand rested on her arm. "Sansa?"

"The Boltons are an old family in the North. They have influence, for sure, and it's been growing. It's why my mother insisted they were at the kickoff event for my father. My parents might not like or even trust the Boltons, but it's impossible to deny their … sway."

"That makes sense," Stannis murmured.

"I might not live in the North anymore, and I might not want to become a political wife the way my mother had hoped, but I love my family, Stannis. They are good people. My father is a good man. Nothing about the Boltons is good. It's not just the casinos. The man has two sons, both with slightly questionable reputations. I know for a fact the youngest one, Ramsay, has been in trouble with the law, although his father has done his best to keep it quiet."

It always distressed Sansa to talk about Ramsay Bolton. She wasn't a woman that scared easily. She prided herself at living alone, in the busiest and biggest city in Westeros. She liked to think she was fearless.

She could shoot a gun, took self-defense classes and carried mace. There was more than one night that she'd gone to meet a source alone, in the dark, and she hadn't been afraid.

But something about Ramsay Bolton creeped her out, and she told Stannis that, watching her lover's eyes narrow. She liked how he listened to her concerns about Ramsay – not dismissing them outright or claiming she was seeing things that weren’t really there. Sansa knew that Ramsay Bolton was a first class creep.

"Has he ever done anything to you?" Stannis demanded.

Sansa was a fiercely independent woman, perhaps even going so far as to call herself a modern-day feminist. But god lord, when Stannis got all growly and protective? Her lady parts and her heart did a happy little dance. The man was a fucking snack with that deep voice and intense looks.

She shook her head, suddenly not hungry. "No. Nothing like that. My mother keeps trying to fix us up, but I've told her that would only happen this side of never in a million years."

"I didn't have a chance to read through the police files that Jaqen found. Is he in them?"

Sansa nodded.

"Yup. But like I said, Daddy dearest seems to get him off with a slap on the wrist. I think that's half the reason my father's gone in with this whole tough on crime thing in his campa----"

Her voice trailed off as ideas and connections sparked inside her brain. She gripped Stannis's arm.

"What if that's part of it?"

"What?"

"What if …." she chewed her lip, voice trailing off, wondering if she sounded crazy. Then Stannis took her chin, gently but firmly, so they were looking right at one another.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he commanded softly.

Knowing she could trust Stannis, she swallowed.

"What if the Robert thing is a way to get to my father?"

She saw when Stannis made the connections she did.

"Think about it. My father and Robert are close. They support one another. Their policies often align. My father has built his entire campaign on cracking down on crime and corruption in the North. Roose Bolton has to know that if my father wins his seat, that his tough-on-crime bill will be passed. And that can't be good for business."

"But if Robert is disgraced, then Ned Stark might suffer some of the same political fallout," Stannis concluded. "Who is running against your father?"

"A man named Jon Umber. He's my father's age. His father was a big supporter of my Dad, but he passed away a few years ago. Times are tough in the far North, and Jon Umber wanted to put a casino in at Last Hearth that my father vetoed."

"It makes sense. Every piece of information we uncover just seems to point to some larger conspiracy."

She felt almost dizzy with her conclusion.

"I thought that maybe they were trying to get to my father through me," she whispered, her conscience guilty, as Stannis pulled her into his arms.

"But now I think I just got in the way. I think they probably targeted Robert for multiple reasons and his friendship with my father was one of those reasons."

It felt good to be held by Stannis, to imagine the look on Ramsay's face the next time she showed up to an event where he was, with Stannis Baratheon on her arm, to know that this very deadly man was looking out for her and her family.

"Do you think my father is in danger?" she asked.

His thumb stroked her cheek.

"I think we should share what we know with both your father and Jaqen. Forewarned is forearmed."

She nodded, agreeing with Stannis. This was no longer just about chasing down a story. It was about keeping those people she loved safe.

"And as for this other business, this Ramsay person, he sounds decidedly unpleasant. I think he bears a closer examination, don't you?" Stannis did not have to remind her of the cat and how the person who'd wanted her dead had wanted her scared first. It was psychological as much as it had been about getting to her.

Sansa didn't even bother to repress the shudder.

"Not just him. There is another name that keeps popping up in the records – a Euron Greyjoy. Either one of them seems like they are capable of what happened to me."

Stannis's eyes were intense, the brown in the hazel colour deepening with concern.

"This is a cluster fuck, you know, that right?"

Sansa let out a little giggle at the swear words and nodded. "Oh yeah, and we're right in the middle of it."

Her lover grimaced and kissed her hard, leaving her breathless. "I know you want your story, but this entire fucking mess is getting worse by the day, Sansa."

She sighed as she wrapped her hands around his neck, kissing him again.

"I know. The most important thing now is that people are safe, and we get the bad guys. Everything else is secondary. I get that."

As if it pained him as much as her to hear those words, Stannis let out a frustrated growl.

"I hate corruption. Lies. Greed. The work you do, it matters, Sansa."

Something loosened in her chest, hearing the conviction in his words. She sent him a little smirk.

"Well, look at you, knowing just want to say to make this girl's heart happy."

His warm chuckled chased away the last of the tenseness from the morning as he slid his hands down her back and cupped her ass.

"How about we do some shooting, and then we make those phone calls to your family?"

Sansa grinned and was just about to respond when Stannis's cell phone rang.

Her lover frowned.

"That's Shireen," he muttered, opening his phone and putting it on speaker.

"Dad?" came a young women's worried voice. Stannis's entire body went taut, and Sansa knew that her lover was deeply concerned. His love for his daughter was absolute, and Sansa felt dread form in her stomach.

"Shireen, what is going on? Are you hurt?"

"No, nothing like that. But I came home, and there is some animal that's dead, outside my apartment complex door. I know what you and Davos said, and I'm ---"

Stannis interrupted her. "Where are you?"

"In my car."

"Go to a coffee shop. Not a regular one. But somewhere busy. Gendry will find you. I'm leaving right now to come and get you."

Gendry was the man that Stannis had put on Shireen when he'd taken Sansa to Rain House. Stannis very rarely left anything to chance and this entire case had set him on edge from the start.

"Ok, Dad, I will."

Sansa met Stannis's eyes.

She nodded, racing upstairs to grab the essentials – purse, keys, cell phone and laptop, as Stannis continued to talk with Shireen, making calls and ensuring his daughter was safe.

Stannis joined her a few moments later in the bedroom and threw two duffle bags on the bed.

"Can you be ready to go in five minutes?"

Sansa nodded.

"I can. How long to get to Stonehelm?"

"Under two hours," he said.

Sansa only nodded and then raced to pack some clothing for them.

"Is she ok?"

Stannis gave a curt nod. "I have a man nearby that will monitor the situation, but I'll feel better when I have eyes on her."

"Stannis, I'm sorry ---"

Sansa started to say, knowing this was hurt fault. His daughter was being targeted because of her, and if she hadn't gotten him involved, Shireen would be safe.

He strode across the room and kissed her hard, cutting off whatever she was about to say.

"No. This is not your fault."

“But ---”

“No, Sansa. Not your fault,” he repeated.

Sansa took a precious few minutes to gaze into his eyes and saw that he meant it. He didn't blame her.

Sansa nodded and then got back to packing.

She met Stannis at the front door seven minutes later, with two bags packed as they hurried to load them into the SUV.

Sansa had a brief moment to gaze at Rain House, wondering if she'd ever see it again.

It had been an incredible few days with Stannis, but reality now intruded – and what an ugly reality it was. No matter what Stannis said, Sansa knew this was partially due to her, and she would never forgive herself.

* * *

_ The Road to Stonehelm – Stannis _

Stannis reached for Sansa's hand when they were on the road, drawing it up to his lips. He could see that she was blaming herself, which admittedly was hard not to do, but he knew this wasn't her fault. It was whatever twisted fuck was playing mind games with them.

"Never think that I wouldn't do everything in my considerable power to keep you safe, Sansa," he told her, and she nodded, seeming to relax slightly at his words.

There were exactly two people in this world that Stannis would go to war for – and Sansa was one of them. The other was his daughter. Whoever was after Sansa had just crossed a massive line with him. They'd made this personal, targeting Shireen after being unable to get to Sansa.

Stannis always had someone watching Shireen. Had he told his daughter? Not in so many words, but she knew. And since he'd taken this case with Sansa, he'd made sure that his man in Stonehelm was on alert.

After Stannis had spoken with Shireen, he'd phoned Gendry, who said he was five minutes away from meeting up with Shireen.

"I'll keep her safe, boss," Gendry swore, and Stannis knew that he would.

At twenty-six, Gendry was one of Stannis's rising stars in his security business and someone that Stannis trusted with Shireen's life.

Now, Stannis had to reassure Sansa that he didn't regret keeping taking this case and that they were in this together – things had just become very personal for Stannis Baratheon when it came to whomever was playing these games. 

"I know you will," Sansa responded to his earlier comment about keeping her safe.

Stannis held her gaze, and when he seemed satisfied, he let her hand go, punching a few buttons until Davos's voice filled the SUV.

The two men had talked briefly when they were still at Rain House, but now, as Stannis navigated the twisty roads along to coast, he barked out questions to his second in command.

"Where is Tywin Lannister right now?"

"In King's Landing," Davos replied, voice tight and filled with worry.

"And Shireen?"

"Gendry has her at the location that was discussed. So far, no sign of trouble."

Stannis was well aware of how much Davos cared for his daughter. This would be extremely difficult for his second in command.

"Good."

Stannis forced himself to think, to be rational, to logic his way through this. He wouldn't give in to the fear that he'd missed something. While he was doing that, Davos coughed.

"Lad, we've got a bigger problem," Davos said.

"What?"

Davos sighed. "It's Daenerys. She's --- unreasonable. She's been making the rounds lately, saying that the two of you are a thing. The worst part is, I think the press believes her."

Of all the things that Davos could have said to him, that was the very last thing that Stannis had expected. He actually barked out a harsh laugh as he caught Sansa's frown out of the corner of his eye. Interesting. He saw the flare of jealous in Sansa’s eyes and gods, he like that. She had to know that he was hers and hers alone. Dany was meant nothing to him.

"That's absurd," Stannis sneered, meaning it. He could barely stand the self-center woman from Essos.

"I know. Fuck, anyone who knows you knows it is crazy talk. But I'm afraid she went on some big talk show and said that you're her date for Robert's big fundraiser."

"Are you serious?" This was an unanticipated wrinkle. Stannis was planning on showing up at the fundraiser with Sansa – as his wife! For god sakes, he’d put his mother’s rings on her finger!

"This morning," Davos confirmed.

Stannis was stunned. What on earth was Daenerys playing at? Was this all just some big coincidence? Or was she part of all of this?

"What does this mean for us?" Sansa asked, clearly frustrated with the pop sensation.

Davos coughed and mumbled something.

"Spit it out," Stannis snapped.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot," Davor grumbled.

"Davos," Stannis growled.

Davos sighed.

"Fine, but you won’t like it.”

“Davos,” Stannis barked, his patience wearing thin.

“I'd suggest that when the two of you get Shireen and Gendry, you get married for real. We can play it off as love at first sight – that you eloped, and that is why you disappeared so quickly from King's Landing. That way, you're officially together and she'll look like she's crazy. Plus any events that you're invited to, well, it makes sense that your wife would be by your side."

For the first time in his life, Stannis was speechless. Not that he didn't want to be with Sansa. But he'd never expected this!

Deafening silence filled the SUV until Sansa let out a little hysterical giggle.

"Oh gods, Stannis, I'm so sorry. Since the moment you've met me, your life has been turned upside down."

He glanced at her, taking his eyes off the twisty road for a moment. That was her objection? That she'd turned his perfectly boring life upside down? Not that Davos was suggesting they legally tie themselves to one another? Did that mean she wanted to be married to him?

"It needs to be official, lass. Anyone who digs will find the real record and it’ll lend credibility to your story. I can have it all set up so that a judge can do it today in Stonehelm."

"Stannis?" Sansa asked, reaching for him.

"We'll call you back," Stannis said, ending the call with Davos.

This was between him and Sansa. He didn't need an audience. Not even Davos, whom Stannis trusted more than almost anyone else on this plaent.

"What are you thinking?" Sansa asked.

Stannis reached for her hand, holding it tightly.

"It would give us credibility and allow me to be by your side no matter what. I would be able to protect you much easier and it would explain our absence from King’s Landing, as well as why you’re suddenly living with me."

"What do we tell our families?"

Stannis sighed and brought her hand to his lips. "For now, the same story we tell everyone else. We fell madly in love and couldn't stand to be apart. We decided to elope and are only just now getting back to King’s Landing."

Sansa nodded. "That would work. My family would buy it, I think. And we all know they'll be here for Robert's event."

Stannis grunted.

"And after?" Sansa asked.

Stannis pinned her with a look. "There would be options. Annulment. Or …"

"Or?"

He saw something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite identify – but it made him confident in his next suggestion.

"Or we reassess when this is all over. You know that whatever is between us … well, it means something to me, Sansa. I hope you feel the same way."

Her head bobbed. "I do. I mean, I want time with you – without being under constant threat, or having my house blown up, or having everything be cloak and dagger. But I've never had this connection with anyone, Stannis. And I want to see where this goes."

"So we're agreed? We marry, for real, in Stormhelm?"

Sansa smiled, and Stannis wondered if this were the best or worst idea – but either way, she nodded.

"We marry for real in Stormhelm."

Even though Stannis knew why they were doing this, there was a part of him that warmed at those words. For a man that had never thought he’d find someone he’d want to spend his life with again, Sansa was fast becoming everything in this world that important in this world.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Stannis gets to Shireen, and everyone converges on King’s Landing - we’re heading into the end game now!


End file.
